Knights of the Realms
by EverPresentKaze
Summary: A group of seven holds the fate of multiple worlds on their shoulders. A former soldier, a drow ranger, a hero in green, a long dead Guardian, a Prince of an ancient Kingdom, a Demon Hunter, and a man trapped in the confines of a life eternal.
1. Prologue

Death was getting old.

He could feel it in his bones, a weariness resulting from a life of hardships. Amadeus Thines had become Death's apprentice when he was twelve, and forced into becoming a fully fledged reaper not a year later.. That had been seventy-four years ago, when he found out that Death, the Grim Reaper, was in fact human. Always had been. For who better to usher souls on into the next step on humanity than one who could truly understand what life was? Amadeus knew that his time was nearing its end, that his apprentice, a young girl named Clarice, would soon take up the scythe. Yes, he was getting old.

The man standing next to Amadeus did nothing to alleviate the burdening weight of his age. He had known the man since he was thirteen, and was the one man that, as Death, he had never been able to figure out. The man was dead, by all scientific reasoning, but Amadeus had long ago learned that some things didn't always work the way you expected them to.

Dirty white hair hung loosely around the mans face, deepening the ever present shadows under his eyes. A gentle breeze played with the ends of his unremarkable travelling cloak.

They stood in front of seven graves. Seven graves, seven bodies, but eight minds, eight friends. Two people had shared one body, as circumstance had demanded at the time. The graves were in the middle of a barren field, cracked earth reaching as far as the eye could see and beyond. A single stone pagoda, half shattered and in disarray, was the only landmark, and was around which the graves were arranged.

Amadeus and the man stood there in silence, each with their own thoughts on times long past. Approaching footsteps caused Amadeus to turn, while the man remained still. "Well well," Amadeus chuckled when he saw the visitor, "how did you manage to convince your entourage to stay behind?"

"I didn't," replied the visitor, an old woman, elegantly dressed and with a face wrinkled more from smiling than age. "I still am able to lose people when I feel like it," she explained. "This old girl still remembers how to have fun." She turned to address the man. "And how have you been, brother?"

The man sighed, the first sound he'd made in many minutes. "About as well as I've always been, Your Highness."

"Damnit, brother, I'm your sister, not your Queen, and you damn well know it!" the woman said irritably.

"Very well, Emi-run"

"That's more like it."

Amadeus was always amazed at how much vitality Emi-run showed in her old age of ninety. Her eyes had lost none of her personality, and she still had the same amount of spunk that she did when they first met, when she was sixteen. They all turned towards the graves then, letting their eyes wander over the engraved names, replaying memories, good and bad. Amadeus lifted his gaze to the sky. It was always green, here. A malevolent green, constantly looking as though on the edge of an immense thunderstorm. It never did rain, let alone storm, and only served to bring more memories to mind.

An hour had passed while the three paid their own silent respects. Amadeus felt a tug on his mind, the call of duty. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but I must now leave you. Duty calls."

The man shook his head, disregarding the apology. "Go," he said, "maybe one of these days you'll finally get around to getting to me."

Amadeus smiled warmly. He placed a hand on Emi-run's shoulder, and she placed her own hand on top of his. "You go do your thing," she said. "And if you see the others anytime soon, say 'Hey' from me."

"Will do." He bowed regally, then dissolved into dust, the wind scattering him until he was no more.

Emi-run and her brother stood a little longer. "I should be getting back, too," she said at length. "I wouldn't want anyone finding their way to this place." The man nodded his agreement. She turned to leave, stopping a few steps away. "You should come visit more often, brother. I miss you." His expressionless face looked at her in answer. She smiled. "I'll be seeing you around. Love ya," she said with a wink, then resumed walking. Then she was gone.

He turned back towards the graves again. He grasped the sword hilts on his hips, a reminder of who he was, and why he wasn't in one of those graves.

_Why didn't you tell them?_

"The less they know, the less they can tell."

_You'll have to tell them soon, you know that._

"Yes."

_Well, you usually know what you're doing._

_I suppose this means you'll need my help again._

"Perhaps."

_Gah, enough small talk. We know what we've gotta do. Let's do it._

_Agreed._

_Agreed._

The man stared at the graves a moment longer. "Agreed." He turned around and walked away, then was gone, leaving the seven graves and their occupants alone under the malevolent green sky.


	2. Unending Possibilities

Part One

Unending Possibilities

_Ever since my departure from Menzoberranzen and the Underdark, I have discovered joys and wonders I had not even hoped to imagine. Among my favorites of these surface wonders is stargazing. _

_Every night, I would like to tear myself away from whatever I'm doing, to find a spot outside that offers an unrivaled view of the heavens. Just the mere thought of those celestial bodies, so much a part of my own world, and yet so distant, is enough to lift my spirits exponentially. Each twinkling point is capable of seizing my attention, and the combined effect of a clear, starry sky is nigh on overwhelming. _

_Stargazing is the only activity I've been able to partake in that can compare to time I spend in the Reverie, the special state of consciousness that I as an elf am lucky enough to experience. The intoxication comes from the unending possibilities that my mind puts forth when looking at the stars. The point I most often find myself wondering about is the most basic question: just what are the stars?_

_Are they lights put there by some collaboration of gods to keep the night from becoming like the Underdark? Are they some form of natural magic to grace the skies with no more purpose than to shed light and beauty upon the world? Is there a star for each soul that has departed this realm of existence? Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. _

_The explanation I find myself most attracted to is one that I have no reason to believe other than that I choose to. It could be that each star is actually another world. _

_Each light in the sky could indeed be another world in which there are other beings, sentient or not, that exist and live their lives possibly like ours. Maybe there are more species in this material plane than anyone has imagined. Without any proof of this, I am limited only by my imagination on how different those worlds might be like form this one. There could be a world where the air might be different, poisonous even, for a visiting alien such as I would be. Perhaps there's a world where those which I have grown among, dwarves, elves, and the like, don't exist at all._

_Might there even be a world where drow are a goodly race?_

_Could there be another out there, somewhere, like me?_

_The unfortunate thing is that I most likely will never know. I've never heard of anyone traveling to the stars, nor taking an interest in it. Should the intuitive minds of Faerun take an interest in the subject, I still doubt that I would live long enough, even with my centuries of life ahead of me, to see it come to fruition. _

_But it's still fun to dream._

_-- Drizzt Do'Urden_


	3. Ch 1: Awake

Disclaimer: I do not own Drizzt Do'Urden, Link, or any other characters/places/things appearing in their respective universes.

8

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Awake

8

Sunlight filtered down through the trees, bespeckling the forest floor with spots of brightness, dispelling the gloom. Motes of dust floated in and out of the rays, adding a lustrous, rich quality to them. The air smelled thickly of loam and mushrooms, countered by the sharp scent of pine bark. A beetle scurried into a patch of soft soil, a shrub shook gently as a squirrel passed, but for the most part, the forest was still. Most creatures were simply resting in the soft gloom of the forest afternoon. Resting and listening.

A song was carried on the breeze, a lilting tune sounding as though the forest itself was singing. A song that was as much a part of the woods as the life that flourished in it.

Somewhere in the forest, as one could never be sure of exactly where, there was a clearing dominated by two stumps, one tripling the other in height. A young man, sixteen or seventeen to look at him, sat on the shorter stump, leading the gay melody with the ocarina set to his lips. His fingers moved deftly over the holes, playing the tune in such a way that it was difficult not get up and dance.

And dance is exactly what the others in the clearing did. A young boy, looking more scarecrow than human, occasionally lent the voice of his reed flute to the melody, but mostly doing a lively jig on his precarious perch atop the taller, skinnier stump.

In the large area in between the two stumps danced a girl, her green hair flying, and three balls of light bobbing and waving around her, the small fairies taking the fun of the dance to the air. Life was good for the six in the sunlit clearing, carefree and happy in the company of friends.

It had not always been so. It was only seven short years ago that the sky above had not been so blue, that the waters of the rivers had frozen over, for the warmth of love and hope had been driven away. Seven years ago, the same clearing that held the friends had been completely consumed by shadow, had been a breeding ground for large and vicious wolves that hunted for no other reason than sport, and hunted to kill.

The land and people had cried out to the heavens for a hero, a figure they could stand behind, united against the encroaching darkness. And the heavens had heard. And the heavens had answered.

A young boy had emerged from the forest, clothed in the green of fields, and innocent to the ways of the world. His heart shone as brightly as the fairy that had befriended him. Seven years later to the world, a blink of the eye to the boy – aged to the same one playing the ocarina – the darkness was dispelled, the clouds driven back, the rivers thawed. Time was restored to its proper order; the boy was a boy once more, now given the chance to live life instead of sacrificing his years to combat evil.

The young man's sword and shield were propped against his stump, and he turned to look at them. Whenever he did, it resurfaced memories of when the world was on his shoulders. Though the times had been evil, he never wanted to forget them. To do so would be to forget all the things he had learned then, about the world, about those that lived in it, and about himself. To do so would be to forget his fairy companion, his beloved friend and most trusted ally. Forced apart by fate when time was restored, the young man had never stopped looking for her. No, he could never forget her. Never

Looking at the weapons also reminded him of how little he had had to use them in this tributary of the River of Time. Once, the magnificent blade had shone brightly with the light of evil's bane. On his second journey through life, though, the blade hardly ever shone, and the brightest it got was a dull glow. Such were the times of peace.

The young man's gaze fell over the sword and his breath caught in his throat, the sound his ocarina made mixing harshly with that of the scarecrow boy's reed flute, effectively halting the dance.

The scarecrow boy nimbly hopped to the ground, and stopped across to the young man, meaning to smack him with the flute, for he had thought his solo was particularly good, and was interrupted by the conflicting notes. He never got there, as two of the fairies, on purple, one white, flew into his forehead, knocking him to the ground, both quietly berating him.

"Hold on, Skull Kid, I think something's wrong."

The blade of evil's bane, which had been thrust into the heart of evil, was glowing as brightly as it ever had. The Master Sword was awake, calling to its wielder.

With that realization, the young man sprang into action. Shield on arm and sword in hand, his sixth sense, the warrior's instincts that had kept him alive through so much of his life, came rushing back, flooding his being. The clearing had two entry points, the rest and impenetrable wall of trees. With the constantly shifting forest, that could mean attack form either, if not both, directions.

All eyes ere turned toward the young green haired girl, except for the young man, who still was trying to pinpoint the source of the danger. It was Tael, The purple fairy that asked what was on everyone's mind. "Saria, what's going on?"

Saria exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her cropped hair. "I…don't know, Tael. I can't sense anything that doesn't belong…" She closed her eyes and concentrated, her brow furrowed. She reached out around her, to the forest itself, searching for…what? She had no idea, and so searched for anything that might offer an explanation.

Though her body had stopped aging at the age of ten, she'd been visiting the forest for twenty-four years now. She was a kokiri, as were the rest of her village, eternal and youthful, a child of the forest. What more, she was the Forest Sage, bound to guard and nurture the spirits of the forest. No one save for the goddesses knew more about the forest than Saria.

Something brushed against her mind, a faint presence, as though the source wasn't entirely in the forest. Again, the presence brushed her mind, the push stronger this time. Something about it seemed familiar…no, it couldn't be! She hadn't felt that presence in seven years. But one final push from that presence, and there was no denying it as it passed into the forest proper.

She gasped, and cried out, a mix of joy and confusion, "It's her!"

Looks of incredulity met her proclamation, but all questions were cut short by another cry.

"Link!"

A blue shining fairy flew fast into the clearing, and Links knees buckled, nearly sending him tumbling to the earth. Navi! The fairy friend that had fought by his side through his first adventures, who he had thought lost to him until now. Could this really be happening?

He steeled his nerves and the strength returned to his legs when he realized that if Navi was indeed real, then so was the pig faced monster bearing down behind her.

He quickly sheathed his sword, then pulled out his bow, nocked an arrow, and let fly all in one fluid motion. The arrow flew between the eyes, exiting through the back of the head to thud into a tree, so taut was the bowstring, so fierce was his anger that someone should threaten his Navi! He nocked another arrow and drew a bead on the prone creature, then began a caution stalk towards it.

Its muscular frame was covered in shaggy hair. A leather and metal cuirass protected its chest, and a long iron sword, evilly curved and full of burs and chips, was clenched in its hand. Its face was brutish, large of mouth and small of eyes. Sharp, gnarly teeth were yellowed with decay, and were dwarfed by two tusks jutting out from the bottom jaw. Link had no idea what it was, but heard more coming through the woods. A lot more, judging by the amount of howls and grunts, and fast.

"Back to the village!" yelled Navi to the assembled group. "We'll hold them off as long as we can!"

"Not without me you're not." The white fairy, sister of Tael, flew up beside Navi. "This kid's stubborn, and won't leave 'til he either kills them all or dies trying."

Any argument on Navi or Links part was summarily cut off as the leading edge of the brutish horde burst into the clearing. He drew his sword again, and was tossing and catching a little diamond that glowed with an inner fire. The horde kept pouring into the clearing, the forerunners surrounding him, barely five steps away. Link smiled.

It had been a long time since he'd been able to have fun like this.

It was when they were a step away, weapons raised to cut him down, that he slammed the diamond into the ground. A great gout of flame shot up, then expanded into a fireball, until it reached the trees, burning only the horde and nothing else with its magical flames. Those on the edges of the inferno came to a hasty halt, none eager enough for the kill to enter. At the heart of the fire, Link and the beasts were no more than black outlines; hazy figures distorted further by the intense heat hat stung the eyes of the halted horde. That did nothing, though, to hide the skill with which Link wielded the Master Sword. He cut down those beasts still standing in the flames, thrusting into them or r slashing viciously, leaving their life blood to pour our onto the ground. Only one swordsman they knew of possessed such skill, and Links blacked out sillouhette only furthered the loss of morale in the assembled throng. Had the drow followed them here?

The fire dissipated, and there stood Link amid the bodies, a light sheen of sweat coating him, the Master Sword bleeding the blood of his enemies.

The image told the beastly horde two things: That this swordsman was not the drow ranger as they had feared, but also that they had no desire to press the attack further. The leading edge turned to flee, but was met by those behind them, not having seen the devastation Link had wrought, pressing to get forward.

"Link, look!" cried Tatl, the white fairy.

Link looked to where Tatl had indicated, to the far back of the horde, to what was keeping them from retreating more effectively than the confused monsters in the middle. It was a man, that much was clear, and all that was clear. He was moving to fast to be anything more than a dark blur, a fleeting shadow in the already shady forest. What caught Links eye, and what made the fires in his eyes burn all the more fiercely, was the sword. The sword glinted from the dappled sunlight, and was one of the two that the man wielded, the only clearly defined detail of the man.

But that sword…

Link had battled that type of sword only once before, back in a different offshoot of time. It was a great sword, long, broad, and with a curving tip; a sword made for chopping and not thrusting. Only one such sword had existed in all of Hyrule, the land the defended. Only one man had held that sword, the man who sought to enslave Hyrule.

Ganondorf! The most evil man to walk the earth, the penultimate reason for the loss of Links childhood. But how could it be? Link had sealed him away into the Abyss ten years ago. Hadn't the world suffered enough at his hands?

Whatever the reason, the fact of the matter was that he was here now. Two score of the horde still remained. They fled the enemy at their backs and charged t the momentarily passive Link. Two score of the vicious creatures caught between him and his hated foe. They came at him with a savage ferocity driven by their will to survive.

They never stood a chance.

Link came at them spinning, his animalistic rage pushing him to a new level of prowess. The fairies watched as he stopped the charge and began pushing it back with the ferocity of his attack. The fairies were astonished. Never before had either seen their Hylian friend fight so viciously. Their usual place in battle was to fly close to the enemy to aid his targeting, or to hover above, acting as extra sets of eyes. This new Link, full of rage that coursed through his veins, was in need of no help. Wading through the dead and dying, cutting and hacking his way through the horde, his eyes burning as brightly as the blade he held. With the Master Sword in front and the great sword behind, the monster horde was soon cut down to a lone wretch.

It looked back and forth between the two swordsmen, not knowing what to do, but neither paid it any heed. Both fighters focused on the other.

Ganondorf had changed, Link noticed. His hair had grown out long, and was now a dirty white. Thinner than Link remembered, too, and with another sword strapped on his back. But no matter the circumstances, Link would always rise to seal evil away to where it belongs, even if it meant his life.

The lone survivor of the massacre let out a guttural bark, presumably a curse, and leapt out at Link in a desperate attempt to land a blow before it fell. Its unsuccessful attack left the Master Sword with a fresh coat of blood, and provided Link with a clear path to his white haired foe, which he readily took. Wanting to give no time for spell casting, he charged straight ahead. The white haired man brushed the hair from his eyes, and Link saw that this was not Ganondorf.

But his confusion did nothing to deter his battle lust. A far as he was concerned, anyone wielding such a great sword in Hyrule was evil. He leapt, bringing his weapon to bear in an over head chop.

"Link, stop!" Only his reflexes, honed from a lifetime of training, allowed him to turn his blade so as not to strike Navi, who had flew in between the blade and the man.

Immediately sobered at what he'd almost done, he backed off cautiously, waiting for an explanation.

"This man," started Navi, "is not your enemy. He's a friend, and he's been helping me find my way back to you. He's – " The man held up his hand, cutting the fairy off.

"I am," said the man, "the Drifter."

8

Author's Note: Yes! Finally done with the first real chapter. I apologize for the confusion I'm sure you all had with the prologue. Everything in it is of my own creation. But fear not, for all shall be explained in due time.

If you're reading this far, you have my thanks, and I would appretiate any reviews, just so I know that somebody actualy is reading.


	4. Ch 2: Crazy Motorcycle

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any of the characters that have appeared in previous, copyrighted works.

8

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Crazy Motorcycle

_Dark and gloomy_, the man thought as he first entered the bar. _Just how I like it._

Three people occupied the bar, and one of them being the barkeep. No windows allowed the chance of someone peeking in. All in all, very suiting to the task at hand. _I just might finish this up hassle free_. That thought quited him. _Damn. That'd be kinda boring_.

Sauntering over to the bar, he moved the great sword slung on his back to one side and pushed his trailing red coat out behind him and sat down with not a little flourish. One of the two patrons looked over at him, the one with blond hair, but was quickly drawn back to the map that his companion, a heavily muscled black man, was showing him. "I'm telling you, man, this spot is filthy rich with oil and..."

The barkeep looked up from the glass she was wiping. "What'll it be, stranger?" A couple of lewd answers came to his mind as he looked her over. Long, jet black hair tied together near the end, with her bangs hanging free and framing a face that belonged in fantasy. A black vest, zipped up the front, covered an ample set of breasts and matched the long half skirt and shorts combo that she wore. Slim yet fit, she was all a man could want. Then he remembered why he was there.

"Gimme two of your strongest." He flipped some cash on the counter, most likely largely exceeding the set price. No matter, he would soon put this place and currency far behind him.

He watched her as he went about pouring his drinks. Something deeper than her appearance drew him to her. It was the way she moved, the way she carried herself. Every move was coordinated, with no hesitancy. Her muscles were well toned, but not rippling. She had the body of a fighter.

_I seriously hope the real one is this good, 'cause I'd love to meet her_.

She set the two drinks down in front of him. "Now take those slow, Mister. We don't want you passing out, now, do we?" She winked at him. He took one glass in each hand, and proceeded to down both drinks with one long swig apiece. Setting the glasses down again, he returned her wink.

"I don't think there's cause to worry." Sometimes it was good to be half-demon.

An impressed look came over her pretty face. "What's your name, Mister?"

He moved a lock of white hair out of his eyes. "Dante."

"You from around here?"

"Nope. Just here on business. Hoping to just pass on through."

"And what exactly is it that you do?" she asked, leaning on the bar.

He leaned closer. "You're looking at a professional Demon Hunter, Miss."

"Demon Hunter?" she repeated with a slight laugh. "I'm sorry to tell you, but you're in the wrong place, Mister. There aren't any demons around here."

His hand moved under the counter, just out of her view. "Oh, but you know better than that." he stated. A barely audible _click_ came from beneath the counter. "Don't you?"

_Bang Bang_.

In the same moment that Dante fired off the two shots, he'd forcefully kicked back away from the bar, throwing himself into a powerful back jump that took him skimming along the roof to the opposite side of the room. He landed on silently on his feet at the same time that the blond haired and black men looked up to see the barkeep slump lifeless on the bar.

A little disappointed that it had been that easy, he slid silently from the bar and into the comparatively harsh daylight, walking under the sign that bore the name of the bar as he made his way to his motorcycle

7th Heaven.

8

"Tifa!" Cloud yelled as he saw her fall. He upturned the table in his haste to get to her, but it was too late. The bullets had entered her chest not a half inch from each other, both entering directly into her heart. Tifa was dead.

"What the Hell, what the Hell?" Barret screamed at the world in general. "What the Hell just happened?" The big man was overwhelmed, wanting nothing more than to shoot something at the moment. As if in answer to his frantic question, the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle starting up came from right outside the bar. Cloud and Barret looked at each other for a heartbeat.

"That white haired son of a bitch!" Barret roared, and Cloud was halfway to the door, vengeance in his eyes. Barret new he was effectively useless if it came to a high speed chase, so he took out his frustration on the nearest bar stool, slamming it with his metal fist until it telescoped. His anger sated for a moment, his eyes fell once again on the body of his friend, and all the fight went out of him. Tears slid slowly down his cheeks, and his shoulders began to shake. He put his face in his flesh and blood hand, and weeped, raspy wheezing accompanying the tremors that racked his body. He forcefully rubbed his eyes and made himself look up at her.

He paused, unbelieving, then looked again.

He looked again.

"That's just not right..."

8

Dante sped along the streets of Edge, enjoying the rush of speed in place of the rush of battle. Going noticeably faster than anyone else on the road, he was pleasantly surprised when the blond from the bar pulled up next to him. "How's it goin'?" he called out in greeting.

The man just scowled and pulled closer to Dante's bike. Pressing a switch, the sides of the bike shot out to the sides, revealing three swords hidden in each side compartment. The spring loaded sides forced Dante's bike up onto the sidewalk—directly into a collision course with the side of a fast approaching building.

Dante smiled.

This was finally getting good.

8

Cloud skid to a halt, watching, waiting for the moment of impact when vengeance would be extracted.

8

Shifting his weight, Dante went into a wheelie into the wall. The front wheel hit, he shifted his weight again...and rode straight up the wall, gunning it to keep momentum. He reached the top of the wall and pushed back at an angle, sending himself and his motorcycle into a back flip, heading directly towards his assailant. He unslung his great sword Rebellion, and let out a laugh, reveling in the thrill of battle.

8

That laugh cut Cloud deeper than any blade had. The laugh was in exhilaration, brought from the joy of battle. He was glad that Cloud had engaged him. He held no remorse or doubt about his decision to kill Tifa. The man didn't care. He had a Devil may care mentality, in the worst way.

The flames of vengeance fanned even higher, he drew one of his swords and brought it up to defend. Tifa's killer fell fast, and brought his own sword down in a vicious two handed chop. Sparks flew as the two blades collided, and the ground around Cloud cracked and broke from the impact. Their two faces were not a foot from each other for a moment, Cloud with his teeth bared in an animalistic snarl, Tifa's killer showing his teeth in a smile, both with the light of battle in their eyes.

The white haired man pushed off from the sword lock, vaulting over Cloud, landing wheels down and sped off, leaving behind a trail of that same laughter.

8

Dante was genuinely happy. Not only had he finished the job, but he had also engaged in a battle that was turning out to be worth his time. He laughed once again, and noticing a highway sign, moved onto the on ramp, hoping to move the battle to a place where they would have free space to utilize their skill.

The highway was still under construction, but nearing completion. All the better, as noncombatants were just that, not in combat and just in the way. Now that the stage was set, only one thing was needed to make this battle epic. Dante turned on the radio.

8

Cloud was not far behind, but a chill went down his spine as he followed. It was not so long ago that he had chased another white haired sword wielder on this highway. Not wanting this to end the same, he decided on a different tactic.

Reaching into a side pocket, he withdrew a small yellow sphere. Materia, made from condensed Mako energy and holding the memories of the Planet itself, it allowed the user specific abilities once used by former inhabitants of the Planet. Cloud pressed it to his arm, and "remembered" the skill it gave. A tingle ran up his arm as his body took in the power, and he urged his motorcycle on faster.

His quarry turned suddenly, now facing him. Determined to end this now, Cloud shot his arm forward, and a bolt of lightning arced from his arm. Electricity coursed through his enemy and his motorcycle, sending him careening out of control and through the concrete barricade, over the edge and into the air.

8

Dante, separated from his motorcycle by the collision, was in a free fall. Looking back, he saw his opponent still mounted on his, and Dante took this to be unfair. Taking out Ebony, one of his two handguns, he fired off a three round salvo at the blond, hoping to take out his motorcycle. Holstering the gun, he took out another weapon from within his coat, a three segmented nunchacku, aptly named Cerberus.

Whirling the flail around his head for momentum, he sent one of the chains out to wrap around the handle bars of his falling motorcycle, pulling himself towards it. Seated once again, he leaned side to side, adjusting the angle of his bike. He landed heavily on a rubble strewn slope, and sped down, where a path weaved through the debris and around the church that was directly in his path. There was a large chunk of what used to be part of a building blocking him from that path, though that posed no problem. Coming up to it, Dante went into another wheelie and jumped the obstacle.

Reaching the peak of the jump, he realized he wasn't high enough to make it. The motorcycle must've taken more damage than he'd thought from the hard landing. To late to change anything about it, he glanced a side hit on a protruding piece of steel at full speed, sending him and his bike into an uncontrolled barrel roll.

8

The color drained from Cloud's face as he watched the white haired man crash through the doors of Aerith's church.

8

Author's Note: Okay, after a few months hiatus, chapter two is up. Not that I've felt any motivation to continue...R&R people, PLEASE! At this point, even flames are welcome! I'm desperate here!


	5. Ch 3: Resist Refuse

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Refuse/Resist

"Construction on the tower is moving along faster than we anticipated, Sire," Zopyros said as he continued with the list of recent developments within the city.

The King held himself upright, trying to hide his boredom. "Good, good. My father would have been very pleased. Is there anything else that needs my immediate attention today?"

"N-no, Sire, but it would be prudent to review the reports from--"

"Not today, Zopyros. I have some other business I must attend to."

The vizeer bowed. "As you say, my King."

The King stood up, and the rest of the court bowed as he made his exit, closely followed by his Queen. They made their way out of the throne room, down a long procession of hallways, until they finally arrived at their royal chambers. The doors closed behind them, and the King was finally able to stand comfortably once again.

"How did Father do it?" he wondered aloud, and not for the first time.

"He never went through what you did, my Love," the Queen responded. She'd grown accustomed to her husbands recent mood, and she could sympathize. The life they both now led was very different from just a few years ago, and it was wearing on them.

"No, no he didn't," the King acceded, going through various stretches to get the blood flowing through his limbs again. Court etiquette and the stone carved throne were unforgiving on a body that was meant to move. "But he ruled through wars. I was there, by his side, for the last of them. Surely he felt something--" He was quited by his wife's finger placed gently on his lips.

"He led wars, my Love, and had his share of personal battles. But never has any man undergone such tribulation as have you."She looked deep into his eyes and saw the man she had fallen in love with, but he was caged, the tediacy of court and ruling a nation trapping the once warrior. "Don't let your duties change who you are."

He gave a laugh derived of hopelessness. "How can't I? I'm expected to be here, in this palace, every day. My mornings are filled with with advisors listing off every stone moved and loaf bought in the kingdom. Priests prattle on incessantly about how more coin is needed for the building of statues, repairs of the temples, and "further glorification." My day is filled with the irrelevant whining of peasants squabbling over a sow. If not that, then it's my generals, pressing me to march on our neighbors and expand my rule. I would gladly give it all up, but the people won't hear of it." He snorted, then sat down heavily. "How do I refuse the kingship when the people resist any other ruler?"

The Queen was silent for a while. Then, moving over to a rack on the wall, she took down two slender, curved swords. Walking back to her husband, she tossed one to him and he deftly caught it, looking up at her questioningly.

In answer, the Queen lunged at his chest, sword point poised to pierce him.

The King quickly rolled to the side and came up in a crouch, holding the sword in front of him. The Queen came at him again, with a quick feint to the left followed by a back handed blow from the right. The King saw the feint for what it was, and caught the actual blow with his own blade. Pushing off from each other, the two royals came together again amidst the ringing of steel on steel. The King thrust, but the Queen twisted around the blade, bringing her own from beneath her in an quick upswing.

Still in mid-thrust, the King was caught off balance. He jumped to the side from his awkward position and rolled across the floor, his wife not far behind.

Kicking his lower body up, he brought himself into another defensive crouch, and not a moment too soon. The Queen brought her legs up and around, one after the other, in a quick double kick. He ducked beneath the first kick but caught her second leg, pushing off the floor at an angle, and swung himself around to beside her by the kicks momentum. He let go and quickly maneuvered his back to his wife's. They spun together and away from each other, neither one having the advantage now.

Not giving The Queen time to move, the King lunged forward but stopped short. The Queen guarded against the blow that didn't come, giving the King enough time to dive down and land on his non-sword hand. Keeping the momentum from his dive, he spun around, both feet and sword held straight out. The Queen, not being able to block both attacks, ducked below the kicks and planted her sword point in the floor in front of her, keeping the King's sword away from her and stopping the King's spin.

He vaulted to the side and landed lithely, waiting for the next attack. It came from straight on, the Queen rushing him with the sword held above his head, poised for a viscous over hand chop. He moved to dodge left, then quickly reversed momentum to bring his blade in a sideways sweep at her back. But the Queen ignored the feint and forced the King to go from attack to defense, bringing his sword up just in time to block the heavy blow. He immediately Kicked straight out, his foot connecting with his stomach, sending her flying back to land with a dull_ thump_. Not wasting time to gloat, the King turned and ran straight at the wall.

The Queen pulled herself to her feet and set herself into a defensive stance to face...nobody. It was too late when she heard the King land behind her. She smiled to herself as she realized his maneuver. He'd run straight up the wall, jumping back to soar through the air and land behind her.

"You are no King," she said as she felt the cold steel of his blade press against her throat. "Who are you?"

He withdrew the blade, and picked her up, both dropping their swords. Carrying her to the bed, he leaned over her, and they looked into each others eyes. She saw the man she'd fallen in love with, now uncaged. He leaned his face close to hers.

"I am the Prince of Persia," he growled before kissing her savagely.

8

Author's Note: ...:stands as silent as audience:... ... ... : Is knocked down by a passing tumbleweed:


	6. Ch 4: Feuer Frei

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Feuer Frei

Vincent Valentine was idly spinning the flower Marlene had given him between his fingers. He'd accompanied the girl to the church that had once been home to their late friend, Aerith, on one of the frequent trips she made there to pick the flowers and remember her friend. There was something special about those flowers. They grew where the alter would have been, the floor boards having been stripped away years ago. Holding the flower by the stem in his right hand, he brought his left up to stroke the petals, but quickly withdrew it when the razor edged talon on his finger tore the delicate petal. Not giving himself time to contemplate the past, he dropped the flower when his phone rang.

"Vin—," he began, but was immediately cut off.

"Lissen up, Vampire Boy, I need you to haul your pale ass down to the bar, pronto! This guy shot Tifa dead, only it wasn't—"

Vincent's ear twitched and he dropped the phone, drawing his gun and turning to face the door of the church at the same time. He'd just leveled the gun when the double doors exploded. A motorcycle sped through the air, on a collision course with Marlene, standing in the center aisle. Knowing he wouldn't be able to reach her in time, he desperately fired off a shot at the motorcycle as it sped past him, the rider exclaiming "Oh, shit!" at the same time.

To Vincent's dismay, his shot did not alter the bike's course in the slightest, and he could only watch helplessly as it sped closer to Marlene, immobile with fear.

At the last possible second, a sword was thrust into the ground not six inches from Marlene, and was used to pole-vault the bike and it's occupant up and over the frightened girl. The rider landed on his feet in the middle of the flower patch, the bike held horizontally behind him by the handlebars. The sound of liquid spilling gave him cause to look down, only to see the gas tank with a gaping hole in it.

Again, the rider exclaimed "Oh shi—," but was cut off by his motorcycle exploding.

Vincent had now reached the frightened, yet unscathed, Marlene, and shielded her from the blast with his cloak. Once the fireball had subsided, Vincent looked to where the rider had been…and still was, looking no worse for wear.

"Damnit!" he yelled, pushing his white hair out of his face. "That was a brand new bike."

"Who are you?" Vincent asked quickly, hoping to bring the truth out of whoever this was by catching him off guard. Something didn't seem right about this man…Actually, Vincent thought, it seems all too familiar.

And that had him even more worried.

"Well, my friends call me Dante, and my enemies call me Dante, but I like to refer to myself of Lord Emperor Over All Things Bad Ass," Dante said as he walked over to retrieve his sword. Holding it so as to catch his reflection, he gave himself a once over before slinging it on his back again. "I guess you could call me Dante."

No, something didn't seem right at all.

"What happened to you?" Vincent asked.

"Aw, you wouldn't believe it," Dante said with an exasperated sigh. "I finished this job, right, smooth as you like, then I get chased by this spiky headed guy carrying an obnox—"

"--siously big sword," Vincent finished for him.

Dante cocked his head to the side, studying Vincent. "Yeah," he said. "Friend of yours?"

Vincent nudged Marlene and sent her to hide behind a large piece of stone as he brought his three barreled gun up to bear. "I'm afraid so," he said in a calm voice. "Now, why was Cloud chasing you?"

Dante, for his part, didn't quail in the face of the menacing gun. He laughed, and suddenly Vincent had two hand guns aimed at him. He hadn't seen Dante move, but there was no doubting the reality of those guns. Dante laughed again.

"Looks like this is gonna be one hell of a party!"

8

Speeding down the slope, Cloud heard the distinctive bark of gunfire, and cursed himself for not being able to capture the murderer. He leaned forward in the seat and urged his motorcycle faster.

8

Vincent whirled as he fired, never still. His cloak swirled around him, catching the few bullets that came near him. He ducked behind a pillar to reload, and quickly looked around for Marlene, praying she was safe. He couldn't see her, and hoped that was good. He sprang out from behind the pillar, fired two shots, and spun to the left. Firing again as he completed the spin, he jumped up and fired his last three shots, pushing off with his feet as he did so, hurling himself straight at Dante, his razor talons outstretched.

Dante dodged the first two shots, caught the third in his coat, and stopped the final three with three rounds of his own. He continued the gun salvo, forcing Vincent to bring his arm up to deflect the bullets, making Vincent crash bodily into him rather than impale him on that deadly arm. Dante went into a back flip, his opponent into a front flip, both combatants landing face to face.

The Demon Hunter brought his sword to bear in an overhead chop, Vincent grabbing the blade with his armored hand, temporarily tethering the two to each other. Both immediately began firing their guns in their opposite hands, and both began twisting, dancing out of the way of the bullets.

Instead of reloading after six shots, Vincent jumped into the air and pivoted around the blade he still gripped, bringing both feet around to connect solidly with the side of Dante's head. The Demon Hunter stumbled back, having been caught off guard, but Vincent pressed the attack, not giving him time to recover. He once again lunged at Dante, taloned hand outstretched. Dante lunged too, hoping to once again force Vincent to defend, but Vincent was ready this time.

Shifting his grip on his gun, Vincent caught the blade where barrel met finger guard, forcing the blade off to the side, and sunk his razor edged talons into the soft flesh of Dante's chest.

8

Cloud burst into the church to see Vincent with his hand deep in the chest of Tifa's killer. A grim satisfaction came over him, along with a jealous disappointment that he hadn't been the one to exact vengeance.

Vincent withdrew his hand, and Dante stumbled back, blood pouring from his chest.

"Shit, son," said the white haired Demon Hunter. "Ya got me."

Then the blood reversed flow, returning to the wound, where the flesh was already knitting itself together.

"Point to you," he said, nodding to Vincent. "Shall we continue?" he asked, freshening his grip on his sword.

8

Author's Notes: Well, I'm gonna suck it up and not complain about the lack of reviews. Please do review if you read, but I'm not gonna cry about it anymore. Moving on, some of you may have noticed my use of song titles for chapter titles. If so, kudos to you, and from now on, I will give credit to the artists at the end of each chapter.

Chapter One used the song "Awake" by Godsmack

Chapter Two used "Crazy Motorcycle," from the FFVII OST, composed by the one and only, oh so amazing, Nobuo Uematsu.

Chapter Three used "Refuse/Resist" by Apocalyptica, a group comprised of four cello players. That's it. Believe it.

Chapter Four uses "Feuer Frei" by Rammstein. Good gun-kata music if there ever was.

I used these songs for chapter inspiration, and if you've got them, I recomend having them play in the background as you read. Next chapter, yet another familiar face shows up, everyones favorite Guardian, it's...


	7. Ch 5: Otherworld

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Otherworld

He was dead.

He was happy.

There was no reason for his happiness. He had no other feelings, no conscious thought, no ambition. Just a thorough sense of well being. He was happy.

_Auron._

There was nothing he had to do. He had no worries. No promises to be kept, no duties to be fulfilled. There was just happiness, and that was enough.

_Auron._

Auron. The word sounded…familiar. He ignored it. Happy.

_Auron._

The word forced itself against him. He was…annoyed. Not happy.

"Auron."

He opened his eyes. He stared straight ahead, re-acquainting himself with the idea of sight. He looked down at himself, his physical body. He looked down at his limb—_arm_, his brain said—and the appendage at the end of it—_hand_. He watched as he experimentally moved his hand. "Auron…" he said, feeling the word as he said it. "Auron…my…name." And it all came rushing back.

_…Lord Braska, you can't be serious…take a picture so I can show it to my kid…must bring about the Calm…how is little Yuna…a Summoner's duty…No! There must be another way! You don't have to die…Take care of my son, he's a bit of a crybaby…It was a bad call. Your team lost because of you…Are you sure?...Jecht is Sin, Sin is Jecht…I would be your Guardian, if you would have me…Am I doing the right thing?...It is a Summoner's Duty…You don't have to do this!...These are your stories!..._

Sir Auron, Guardian of High Summoner Braska, and his daughter High Summoner Yuna. He reached behind him and grabbed the protruding hilt. He took a deep breath, feeling the sensation of his lungs filling with air. He had his name. He had his sword. And he had his life.

Something was wrong.

"Enjoying yourself?" A voice behind him asked.

"Why would I be?" It felt so strange, talking.

"Why? Because you're alive!"

"This is _my_ story," he said, dangerously quiet, turning around. "You have no say in it."

The man he now faced looked bemused. "But you're alive. You've been given another chance at life. How can you not rejoice in that?"

Auron smiled grimly, and brought his sword to bear. "I have heard the languages of the Apocalypse, and now I shall enjoy the silence," he said, and lunged forward. The mystery man brought his own sword to bear, and met the attack. Steel rang against steel, each man measuring the other's strength.

He was in the Farplane, Auron knew, though it looked different since the last time he viewed it while alive. Green was the predominant color, and the souls of those departed were rushing around the scattered rocks that hung suspended. It was like a river, the souls speeding past the combatants as they leapt from rock to rock.

"Why did you bring me back!" Auron brought his sword down in an overhead chop.

"Because you're more useful alive," replied the mystery man, easily parrying the blow and thrusting forward with his own sword.

"Like I said before, this is my story," he said, sidestepping the thrust and bringing his sword around in a wide, sweeping arc. "And you have no say in it!"

The swords clashed together repeatedly, faster and faster as each man pressed the attack, until the ringing of steel on steel became one continuous noise, a deadly song that allowed for no mistakes. Auron quickly went through an attack routine and leapt to another hovering rock. The mystery man followed, unrelenting in his attack. Auron feinted left and came about right, switching momentum so suddenly it would have caught any except the most experienced of warriors off guard. But the mystery man was there, waiting to receive the real blow, and the battle quickly turned to his favor. It wasn't long before Auron realized that the man was playing with him. He was going to lose.

"Why?" he asked, continuing the losing battle.

The man enjoyed the look of resignation that became apparent in Auron's eyes. He put up his sword, seemingly satisfied with the psychological victory. "Because I took away the one thing that now makes you happy: your own death." He walked forward, leisurely, and Auron found he couldn't move. "And now you will help me do the same to others. Of course, I can't trust you to do it by yourself, now, can I?" he said as he nicked Auron's neck with his blade. "Thus, I'll send a…chaperone, if you will, to guide you." He brought his hand up to the cut on Auron's neck, and the Guardian felt…something. He didn't know what it was, but it was definitely invasive. He suddenly felt very sick, and extremely violated.

"Go now," said the mystery man, as Auron's world began to go black, and not for the first time. "Into the sand, and the dust, and the sky. Go now, there's no better plan than to do, or to die. Free me, pray to the faith in the face of the light. Free me, fill me with sin, and get ready to fight."

"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for poetry," said Auron with the last of his strength. Then he once again fell into blackness, but it wasn't comforting. He knew the blackness of death, and this wasn't it.

8

Author's Note: Who is the mystery swordsman? Trek on, faithful reader, and don't forget to review. Song used was "Otherworld" off the FFX OST, composed by Nobuo Uematsu and performed by his awesome band, The Black Mages.


	8. Ch 6: Straight Out of Line

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Straight Out Of Line

Another day had ended, with nothing to mark its passing. The King of Babylon had sat on the throne and presided over a days worth of formalities. Generals had reported, as had advisors, merchants, and ship masters. The court told him what a fine job he was doing, that his father would have been proud. It was another day in the life of the King of Babylon.

And another wasted day for the Prince of Persia.

Court life had been taking its toll, but never before had the Prince felt the weight of his heritage so much. Babylon and all of Persia was prospering, and its King was beginning to lose his sanity. The Queen could see this. She, more than anyone, knew what he was going through. Fortunately, she was comfortable in the court setting, and she did all she could to help her husband endure it, but it wasn't enough. Even the sparring did little for him anymore.

"My Lady? We're here."

The Queen snapped out her thoughtful state. "Oh, thank you, Zopyros," she said, the old advisor having escorted her to her chambers, the King having been cornered by another general seeking his favor.

"Is all well, My Lady?" Zopyros asked, insightful as always.

"As well as it has been," she answered truthfully, and the advisor nodded sagely.

"Yes, the Prince is not suited to the life of a ruler. He is a warrior."

The Queen sighed. "Unfortunately, his warrior days are over. Babylon is at peace, and needs him to lead." She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield herself from the helpless feeling she got whenever she thought of that fact. "It's because of his birth that he's fated to rule."

"Fate," rasped the old man, a faraway look in his eyes, "is a fickle thing, My Lady. I once told the Prince that he could not change his fate. That no man could. But would he listen? Oh no, and…well…you know the story, My Lady," he finished, his eyes twinkling.

She studied the advisor for a moment. "My husband made a wise move, making you advisor, Zopyros."

"You flatter me, My Lady. If you would excuse me, I have duties to attend to."

"Of course, Zopyros," she said, waving him off. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, My Lady." The old man bowed, then hobbled off.

The Queen entered her chambers, leaning on the doors after closing them. Crafty old Zopyros. She should have realized that while the King would shoulder the burden and sit through court day after day, the Prince, the man she fell in love with, would have none of it.

It was only a matter of time, she knew, before the warrior within him leapt straight out of line.

8

"Fish! Fresh fish!"

"Dates! Pomegranate! All fresh!"

"Sir, a carpet! A lovely carpet for you!"

"No thank you," said the Prince, turning away from the vendor. He pulled his cowl further down over his face, obscuring his features in shadow. He was just another prospective consumer in the market, another man that didn't want his face seen. He was nobody. And it felt good.

For once, he wasn't the King of Babylon. It wasn't perfect, he wasn't the King, but he didn't feel quite like his old self, but the crowded market place was insurmountably better than the Royal Court. He felt like he could breathe here. He could move at his own pace, he could go where he wanted without having to give an explanation as to why, and without an escort. He could interact with people as an equal.

The only thing that would have made it better would have been something to kill.

He continued his wandering and came to another part of the market, where street performers could show their talents without the full on press of bodies that were around the large stalls. Snake charmers, fire breathers, sword swallowers, and acrobats were abundant. He looked around and saw a group of children playing in the opening of an alleyway, just down the street. He whistled, twice, and one of the girls in the group looked up and around, until she spotted the Prince. She left her friends and made her way over to him, but not directly.

"Asha," he addressed her as she drew near. She had been one of the Princes friends, and he had feared that she had perished when Babylon was attacked not so long ago. Thankfully, she wasn't. The Prince liked Asha; he saw a lot of himself in her.

"Prince," she replied in a hushed voice, able to recognize the differences between the Prince and the King.

"What is new on the streets?"

The girl stood a little straighter, proud to be the Princes primary street informant. "Not much," she began. "There was talk of a riot in response to the raised fish prices—"

"Not much?" asked the Prince. "I would think plans of a riot would garner more attention, Asha. Should I order the guard down here?"

"You didn't let me finish, Prince," she said, smiling at his impatience. It was one of the things they had in common. "The talk was quelled soon enough, once they realized that without the fishmongers, the fishermen wouldn't need to fish as much. You'd be surprised, Prince, but sometimes people do think." It wasn't a reprimand. Just an observation.

He smiled. "Very well, Asha. Anything else?"

"Well," she started, somewhat embarrassed. "I don't think the Prince would really be interested in the matter, but there is a street performer…no, I'm sorry for wasting your time, Prince."

"Go on, Asha. You might be surprised at how much I actually like some street performers," he said. Every time he saw an acrobat or sword dancer, it let him relive past events, when life hung in the balance between a misplaced foot or a poorly judged leap.

The good old days.

"It's this old acrobat, my Prince. He was never very good, barely made enough to live. But…recently, he's been doing better. A lot better. He's making more than other acrobats of the greater skill."

"How?"  
"Well…I can't explain how he does it. No one can. But he takes volunteers from the crowd, gives them a sword, and has them hit him as hard as they can."

The Prince was confused. "But, that would mean he's dead…"

"But that's the thing. He never gets hit. He moves out of the way. He's right there one moment, and the next, he's behind you! It's amazing. He moves faster than the eye can follow, like, like…" she paused, thinking of someway to explain.

"Like time has slowed down for him?"

"Yes!" cried Asha. "How did you know? I didn't think you'd seen him already." She looked at the Prince, and noticed the haunted look in his eyes.

"You will take me to this man, Asha. Now."

She was suddenly afraid. "Y-yes, my Prince."

8

"Hyaaaaaahhh!"

The man swung the sword with all his might, right at the smiling face of the street performer. Just before the blade met flesh, he moved, avoiding the blade and moving so fast that he was able to catch the man's hand on the back swing. The volunteer sword swinger was as bewildered as every other previous volunteer and every one that had seen the performance. "How…?" the man started to ask.

"Ahh, but if I told you, then everyone would be doing it, wouldn't they? Then how would old Rasheen make his living? Great skill is required, my friends, as is a little luck," Rasheen said, grasping the amulet that hung around his neck.

"Luck, you say?" asked a man, cloaked with cowl drawn low.

"Yes, the luck of gods and men!"

"No magic, then?" the hooded man asked.

Rasheen looked closer at the man, trying to see beneath the cowl. "No, no magic. I'm an honest performer." A chuckle went through the crowd. "Who are you, asking about magic and such?"

"Where did you get that amulet?" the man asked, changing direction.

"I bought it," Rasheen said defensively. "A fisherman found it in his nets and sold it to me."

The hooded man took a step forward. "I think you should be giving it to me, now. You have no idea what you're really dealing with."

Rasheen smiled. "No, my ill fated friend, it is you who has no idea what you're dealing with." He pulled a knife from his boot and, with a speed that the crowd couldn't follow, he rushed the too inquisitive man.

The Prince expected the rush, spinning away so that when Rasheen went to grab him, he clutched only air. Confusion turned to fear when he felt cold steel against his throat. "Like I said before, you have no idea what you're really dealing with." The Prince pressed the blade a little harder, just breaking the skin. "I do."

"I-impossible!" Rasheen gasped. "How could you…?"

The Prince chuckled. "Great skill is required, my friend. No luck, just skill." Rasheen felt his courage desert him, felt something else dribble down his leg. "Give me the amulet," commanded the Prince.

Rasheen's trembling hand moved up to grasp the amulet, and he tore it from around his neck. He handed it to the Prince and stumbled away, clutching his neck, as the Prince released his hold. He stared, wide eyed and scared at the cloaked man. "Wh-why do you want it so much?"

The Prince was looking down at the amulet, Farah's amulet, wondering what it's presence meant. "I can't find a reason," he said, looking up and into Rasheen's eyes, "why I should justify my ways." With that, the Prince turned and walked away, leaving behind a very stunned crowd, and a street performer that desperately needed a new act.

8

Author's Note: Hmmm...things are starting to get interesting for the Prince, no? Let me know what you guys think, and even if you don't review, thanks for reading. Song used this time was "Straight Out of Line" by Godsmack, used in "The Prince of Persia: The Warrior Within." Hopefully you knew that already, otherwise the whole Prince thing probably isn't making much sense to you.


	9. Ch 7: Divine Hate

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Divine Hate

"Hey," said Dante, noticing Cloud, "everyone's here. Now it really is a party!"

The ex-SOLDIER held the First Tsurugi, his six part sword, in a battle ready stance. "You kill Tifa," he began, his eyes burning. "Then you try to kill me. And you act like it's a party?"

Dante sighed. "Listen. Like I've already told Tall, Pale, and Vengeful here, I wasn't told anything about names or anything. Just a descrip—" But Cloud wasn't listening.

"Now you've really crossed the line." Any thoughts of leniency or mercy were instantly erased. Dante must die.

"Is it true, Cloud? Did this man kill Tifa?" Vincent asked, gun trained on Dante.

"Yeah. He did." A tiny, angry voice was coming from somewhere. Cloud glanced at the floor and saw Vincent's discarded phone, and frightened breathing brought Marlene to his attention. "Marlene, pick up the phone and tell your dad we've got everything under control." Cloud lunged forward, bringing the First Tsurugi down in an arc.

Dante dodged to the left, avoiding the blow and away from Vincent, who came at him with his taloned hand again. "I gotta say—Cloud, was it?—loving the sword." He parried one thrust and ducked beneath the next, bringing one pistol to bear and shooting at Vincent's feet. Vincent rolled out of the way, leaving Dante to face Cloud.

Cloud brought the First Tsurugi down in a vicious over head chop, embedding it in the floor boards when Dante hopped out of the way, then on to the blade. Cloud pulled it sharply out, and Dante used the sword as a spring board, sending him flying, his own sword extended, into Vincent. Vincent grabbed the blade in his taloned hand and pivoted, trying to send Dante into the wall.

It worked, but Dante brought his feet up and immediately pushed off from the wall, almost straight up into the air. Quickly sheathing his sword, he unslung both handguns and let loose. Cloud and Vincent dodged and rolled out of the rain, and Dante landed. He was met with a low sweeping sword slash and a bullet salvo at chest level. He planted his sword in the ground and swung himself behind it, effectively stopping Cloud's swing short and using the broad blade as a temporary shield against the bullets. Immediately flipping out of the way, he left his sword in the floor, not having time to retrieve it.

"I must say," said Dante with a smile. "I'm thoroughly impressed. I haven't had this good a match in ages." He paused, frowning at himself. "Actually, it was more like two weeks ago, but who's counting? Point is, this feels great! You're hate for me, it's…it's…" he snapped his fingers, "Divine! Yes, that's it. Quite poetic, actually, I'll have to remember that…" His rambling was cut off when Cloud partly dissembled the First Tsurugi to dual wield. "Woah, there!" Cloud paused, willing to accept Dante's surrender. It wouldn't save his life, but it would avoid putting Marlene in further danger.

"Two swords? Not what I'd call fair." There was no humor in Clouds eyes, much to Dante's disappointment. "Well, okay. If that's how you wanna play." Dante reached behind him, under his coat, and withdrew twin curving blades, one red, one blue. "Now things get interesting!" he said.

"Cloud!"

The three combatants stopped short at Marlene's shout, but remained wary. "What is it, Marlene?" asked Vincent, never taking his eyes off of Dante.

"Dad said that he didn't kill Tifa!"

Cloud and Vincent faltered. "What?"

Marlene explained. "He said that after Cloud left, Tifa's body turned into something else. He says that something was pretending to be Tifa, that Tifa's still alive!"

Cloud looked from Dante's smiling face, to Marlene's hopeful face, then back to Dante's.

Dante walked over to where his sword still stood in the floor. "Look, I'm not good with names, so I'm still kinda unsure on what just happened, but I think I just got acquitted, yes?" He extracted his sword and waited for an answer. None came, Cloud and Vincent still shocked at the news. "Well, either way, said Dante, leveling the sword, "I'm still good to go if you guys are. This really has been one Hell of a party!"

8

Author's Note: Well, that's finally the end of that fight scene. Only took, what, three chapters? Song used for this chapter was "Divine Hate," off the Devil May Cry 3 OST, by Hostile Grooves. Amazing soundtrack, amazing game. Go pick it up. You know you want to.


	10. Ch 8: Secret

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Secret

"Durned elf!"

Cattie-brie looked up from the book she had been reading as her father came through the door of the hall. The surly dwarf grumbled all the way to the chair next to her, and silently fumed as he sat. He didn't pick up a book, didn't reach for pen or parchment, even waved away the ale that servers brought. He just fumed, and kept glancing at her.

Cattie-brie went back to her reading.

"Well, aren't ye going te ask me what's wrong?" asked the dwarf after a few minutes.

"I figured I'd let ye sputter yerself out, but that seemed to be futile," she said as she set aside her book. "What's wrong?"

"That durned elf, that's what!"

"I gathered that much. What has Drizzt done to earn your ire this time?"

"Bah! It's what he won't do that's got me angered!" yelled the dwarf, his face turning red. "He says he won't be marryin' ye soon. Says the people would think it queer. Bah!" he yelled again, throwing his hands up.

Cattie-brie studied her father, Bruenor Battlehammer, last in the line of Gandalug Battlehammer and King of Mithral Hall. He had found Cattie-brie when she was just a babe, in the wild tundra of Icewind Dale. She was lying amidst the ruins of her family's cart, what may or may not have been her parents lying strewn about. He took her back to his home, and she had been his daughter ever since.

Years later, when the dwarves joined forces with the militia of Ten Towns to stave off a barbarian raid, he had captured a young barbarian boy. The boy was kept as prisoner in the dwarven halls, but was treated as any other dwarf. He was trained as a blacksmith, apprenticed to Bruenor himself. In time, Bruenor came to love the boy, and he soon found that he had another adopted child.

If any dwarf knew the hardships of cross-species relationships, it was Bruenor.

If there was any dwarf that exemplified the races trademark stubbornness, it was Bruenor.

"We're just being cautious, Bruenor. Not everyone is as trusting of Drizzt as those around Mithral Hall yet. Most people still see him as just a drow. How do you think they'd react to a half human, half drow child?" She looked pointedly at him.

"Why, they should feel good, having a young'un like that around. Ye and the elf would make sure he knew what was right agin' what's wrong, and the young'un'd be capable of defending what he should." Cattie-brie's face went suddenly white. "What're ye goin' all pale fer, girl?"

"I just had a horrible thought." Bruenor waited for her to go on. "The child would be raised here, yes?"

"Aye…I don't quite see where ye're goin' with this."

"Name some of the people that would want to ensure that the child was raised properly."

"Well, there's me, the elf and yerself, Wulfgar, Rumblebelly, Pwent and his bo—" Bruenor stopped. Bruenor went pale. "P-Pwent and his boys…"

Thibledorf Pwent was a dwarf of a special breed. He and his boys called themselves Gutbusters, and with good reason. They went into battle fully armored, unlike conventional dwarf warfare. The armor served to protect them, but the addition of jagged spikes all over added an offensive point to the armor. The Gutbuster battle tactic was to throw themselves onto an enemy and start to shake. Gutbuster training involved running headfirst, helmetless, into a stone wall. The Gutbuster drink was taken as a deterant to any known poison from the body.

"I'll unnerstand if ye hold off fer a while, girl," Bruenor said after a while. Both father and daughter were a bit shaken by the image of a young half elf bashing it's head repeatedly against a stone wall, determined to break through it with only it's head.

"Bruenor!"

He looked up at the dwarf that burst through the doors. "Corneo? I thought I'd sent you down to Settlestone with Drizzt."

"Aye, ye did, yer Highness." Corneo Muffinhead paused to catch his breath. " We came across two travelers, and before anything could happen, Drizzt had one at sword point and Guenhwyvar was ready to pounce on the other."

Bruenor blinked. "He called out the cat?"

Corneo nodded. "Aye. Then Drizzt sent me back here, telling me to bring back yerself and the others."

"Thank ye, Corneo, for being quick about it," said Cattie-brie.

Bruenor was already stomping off down the corridor. "Wulfgar! Rumblebelly! We gotta go rescue that durned elf agin! Where in the nine hells is my axe?"

8

Drizzt pressed the tip of his scimitar a little harder against the man's chest. "I will ask you again. Where did you get that sword?"

"He already told you!" said a small, yet highly annoyed voice. "He won it in a competition!" Guenhwyvar growled at the speaker, the yellow fairy Tatl, and she quickly retreated back under Link's cap.

"It's okay, Tatl," the Drifter said calmly. "We will wait here until his friends arrive. We came in peace, and peace is what we will keep."

Drizzt smiled, but kept his blade unwavering. "Smart words. Don't let them move, Guen." The panther settled back a little further on its haunches, bared its fangs a little more. Link, for his part, was trying his very best to be the picture of non-aggressiveness. Hands up, and with a grin that was meant to be disarming—which instead just looked ridiculous—he tried to send a silent message to the six hundred pounds of feline muscle and claw that he didn't taste good.

"Do I hear a bear coming this way?" asked Navi after a few minutes. Link and the other fairy then picked up the sounds of something lumbering heavily through the brush. Link wanted to cry. Why did he have such terrible luck with all animals? Everything wanted to kill him. This panther was no different, and now a bear. He was safe with horses and chicke—he was safe with horses. There was a reason why he loved Lon Lon ranch so much.

"No, that would be a dwarf," Drizzt said with some resignation. As if on cue, Bruenor tumbled out of the brush to land rather undignified, yet rather dwarf-like, a few feet to the right of Drizzt.

"All right, elf," grumbled Bruenor as he got on his feet. "What mess am I havin' te get ye out of, this time?" He looked at the travelers. "Well? What's ye're secret?"

"No trouble as of yet,"said the drow ranger, "but if my suspicions prove true, there very well could be."

"Well then explain yerself. If'n ye be wrong, then ye've got some apologizing to be doing to these travelers here," Cattie-brie said as she stepped into the scene, with Wulfgar and Corneo close behind, Regis upon one of Wulfgars' wide shoulders.

"Why don't we start by getting their names?" voiced the Halfling from his perch.

"Good idea, Rumblebelly," Bruenor said, turning to the travelers. "Well, tell us yer bloody names!"

"I am the Drifter, good King Bruenor, and my companion is Link, of the Kingdom of Hyrule. With him are his two fairy friends, Navi and Tatl," the Drifter explained, nodding his head ever so slightly and slowly, as not to give Drizzt any reason to pierce his throat.

"Ah, so ye've heard o' me!" exclaimed a pleased Bruenor, puffing his chest out a bit further.

"Aye, King of Mithral Hall, last in the line of Gandalug Battlehammer, I've heard much about you, as well as the other Companions of the Hall."

"I've never heard of this Kingdom called Hyrule," interjected Wulfgar. "Does it lie to the south, past Calimport?"

Tatl giggled a little, and Navi sighed. "Not quite."

"Indeed, King Bruenor," intoned the Drifter, "the well being of Hyrule is one of the reasons why we've ventured here today." He looked at Drizzt as he finished, and the ranger felt…something. Familiarity? Recognition? Fear?

Wulfgar was confused. "Then why come so far to seek council from a King that has no knowledge of your kingdom at all? Seems foolhardy," reasoned Wulfgar, narrowing his eyes slightly. "And a bit suspicious. I notice your lack of banner, let alone a traditional recruitment escort."

"Because, Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, Mithral Hall, as well as Settlestone, Ten Towns, Silverymoon, Waterdeep—indeed the entire Realm of Fearun—lies in the same path of destruction that Hyrule does."

"So he's come as a herald," said Regis.

"Think you can call off the panther now?" asked Tatl.

Drizzt stayed stoic. "No. None of that told my why you have that sword."

"This is over a sword?" asked the confused dwarf. "Are ye telling me that those two ye've got there, the same two that've saved me and me own more times'n I be caring to count, aren't good enough for ye!" roared Bruenor, both surprised and angered at the drow's apparent greed.

Drizzt frowned, a little hurt that Bruenor would think that. "No! Twinkle and Icingdeath are both better blades than I could ever hope for. No, I do not wish this sword for myself or any that I hold dear. This man has Khazid'hea." The drow's companions all drew in a collective breath.

Khazid'hea, Cutter in Common Tongue, was a sentient sword with a strong willed mind and a keen edge. The blade would sheer stone and steel as if it were soft butter, providing an almost unblockable offense. But the sword was also controlling. It desired only to be held by the most apt swordsman, alive or dead, and to bathe in blood, friend and foe alike to the wielder. It tried to dominate the mind of any that it saw fit to hold it, always changing it's hilt to mirror the personality of the intended victim, to make itself more appealing. Drizzt had recently lost the blade in the middle of an orc army after a fierce battle with the then orc warlord, Obould Many-Arrows.

The Drifter's eyes lit with sudden understanding. "I am embarrassed that I didn't explain sooner. Indeed, the detail slipped from my mind all together." The Drifter nodded his head again, this time in apology. "It is indeed a sword you are sensing, Drizzt, and a sentient one that seeks to claim your mind at that. However, this is most assuredly not Khazid'hea."

"How can ye be sure?" asked Cattie-brie, who had used the evil blade the longest. "Sure, it doesn't look the same, but that sword could change it's hilt."

"I am very sure," said the Drifter. "Tell me, Drizzt, can you feel anything different about the pull of this blade than that of Khazid'dae?

"What kind of question is that?" blustered Bruenor. "A sword is a sword! Swords ain't supposed to have thoughts anyways, so how could they be that different?"

The Drifter's question actually made Drizzt examine the pull he felt from the blade. "It…it's more…feminine," he said after a while, adding to the confusion of everyone.

"Yes," said the Drifter.

"How can a sword be masculine or feminine?" asked Wulfgar.

"Simple," the Drifter said. "This sword is my mother."

Something about the way he said it, something in his eyes, made Drizzt believe him. He slowly withdrew Twinkle from the Drifter's throat, and stood back, re-evaluating the man. "I believe him. You can let them relax, now, Guen." The panther slowly edged off, never taking it's eyes off Link. There was no longer anything threatening in those eyes, but Link nonetheless felt far from relaxed. The fairies shared his uneasiness.

"It's like if someone actually had a pet wolfos," Tatl whispered in his ear. "They might call it off, but you're still edible."

"Are ye sure, Drizzt?" asked Cattie-brie anxiously. She trusted the drow implicitly, yet she couldn't shake the memories of just how domineering the blade could be.

"Yes."

"Well then," said Bruenor. "Now that that's outa the way, what was that about Mithral Hall lyin' in danger?" The dwarven King laughed. "Look around ye! The elf may've killed the King orc scum, but the army's still here! We ain't outa the clear yet, oh no! And if you think I'm gonna be sending out me boys to go fight some war in some Kingdom I aint' ever heard tell of, ye've got another thing coming!"

The Drifter raised his hands to calm the raging dwarf. "Be at ease, Bruenor King. We did not come seeking an army. You noticed earlier, Wulfgar, our lack of banner. We do not travel in the name of one nation, god, or king. Link is the chosen representative—the champion of Hyrule, if you will—that fights for his Kingdom. We seek to gather a small band of such fighters to quell this threat before it escalates. We were hoping to find the fourth member of our troupe here."

Bruenor looked sidelong at Link. "This young'uns be the best that place's got to offer? 'Twixt ye'n'me, he don't look like much."

The Drifter smiled. "Looks can be deceiving, Bruenor Battlehammer. I've been watching Link for a long, long time."

"Yeah? And what's so special about 'im?"

The Drifter got a faraway look in his eyes, like he was reliving a lifetime's worth of experiences. "Every legend has its hero. But not every hero has its own legend."

The Companions and Corneo all turned to look at Link, hoping for an explanation of some kind. Link returned their confused stares, not quite sure what the Drifter was talking about, either.

"Fourth member? Then where is the third?" asked Drizzt.

"Hopefully convincing another prospective warrior to join as the fifth," he said confidently. And he was confident. The monster would be killed and the fifth member recruited. Dante might have a roundabout way of doing things, but he did get the job done.

8

Author's Note: For all of you Link fanboys and girls, he finally came back. Huzzah! Drizzt and co. have made their first appearance, and all in all, I am very happy with the dialogue. Good chapter for me. Makes me happy. Insert random sentence fragment here. Song was "Secret," supposedly an unreleased track on Linkin Park's "Reanimation" album, but who's to say? Next up, epicnossity, if I have anything to say about it. Oh, wait, I'm the author. I have everything to say about it.

P.S. If some kind hearted individual out there would like this story to advance faster, please send me a copy of Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus. Enclose name and contact information so that I may thank you in a decidely appropriate manner. Much thanks.


	11. CH 9: Some Kind of Monster

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Some Kind Of Monster

The merchant ship _Tiamat_ was the fastest in all of Babylon, with three sails and over one hundred oar slaves. Solidly built, but built for speed, the merchant ship was the Prince's choice of vessel for his return trip to the Island of Time.

The unexpected return of Farah's amulet began to once again play with the Prince's sense of reality. The Sands were supposed to have been removed from this world, along with any relic of the Sands, but the Amulet was still here. There was no denying the relationship between the Amulet and the Sands, and that made the Prince wonder just what else he had misunderstood when Kaileena left with the sands.

"You seem troubled, My King. Is everything all right?"

The shipmaster's voice pulled the Prince back from his wonderings. "I am sorry, Mordecai, I didn't realize you were there."

"No matter, Your Highness, but are you well?"

The Prince nodded. "Quite. It's a rare opportunity one gets to sail with such a fine crew as yours, Shipmaster Mordecai. My thoughts were…else where." He turned his head to look back over the expanse of endless expanse of water.

"Then I'll leave you to your thoughts, My King."

"Thank you," said the Prince, turning his attention fully to the water, black with night. He remembered how black the water had turned during the Dahaka's demise. The Dahaka…the Prince still had nightmares about that beast. The tendrils that writhed and stretched, seeking to strangle. The enraged roar when confronted by its weakness, water. The eyes, the haunting, yellow eyes, that held no trace of exhaustion, no trace of mercy. The Guardian of the Timeline, intent on erasing the Prince from existence.

He looked up, trying to shake off the memories, but something caught his eye. Out in the distance, there was a light. There should have been no other ships in these

waters, so close to the Island of Time, yet…it was moving too fast, and in their direction. Fire, the Prince saw soon. Whatever it was, it was wreathed in fire, and didn't touch the water. Almost as if it were flying…

"All hands to deck!" The cry came from the crow's nest, and Mordecai's men stirred themselves with amazing alacrity, no questions asked until they were all on deck. Not that any were needed, for the flaming…thing was just a league off the starboard side by then.

"In Anu's name…"

At least twelve feet tall, with a wingspan twice that much, the thing was covered in red scales, with thick mats of hair in places. Its head was apelike in shape, but with features that were more dog like. Thick, corded muscles rippled under its skin, and sharp claws extended from its fingers.

It stopped mere feet from the ships railing, its black, pupil-less eyes pierced the flames that surrounded its body to leer at the assembled crew.

"What is it?" a nervous voice asked.

"What am I?" Its voice was harsh, gravelly, and guttural. "I'll try my best to explain a being of my greatness to you…_humans_. Ah…perhaps a visual aid." Without warning, one of its arms shot forward and grabbed a crew member. It pulled him screaming, over the edge and into an infernal embrace. Its other hand reached towards the unfortunate mans face, and the screaming intensified. "These are the eyes that can't see me." It threw the mans eyes at the feet of those still on deck. They rolled grotesquely before coming to a rest, one eye gazing sightlessly up at the crew. Then came his hands. His feet.

With every tear of flesh, every crack of bone, the demon grew more excited, drool running freely from its mouth to sizzle when it hit the water beneath it. It licked its muzzle grotesquely. "This is the tongue that speaks on the inside," it continued, before lunging for the ship.

The crew scattered as the demon landed among them, the flames spreading to the deck. As the _Tiamat_ began to smoke,the demon began leisurely picking up crew members. With every action came a statement, sadistically mocking the crew.

"These are the legs that in circles run," it said as he ripped a man almost in half by the legs, the rip in his body stopping mid chest, but the man was dead all the same. The demon pondered the disfigured corpse for a moment before lifting it up and punching it so hard as to send it over board. "This is the beating you'll never know."

The Prince had been the only one that hadn't panicked. "To me! Rally to me!" The remaining crew did finally listen, and took strength from their King. Here was the man who had defeated an entire invading army, one that was corrupted by the very essence of Time. If anyone of them could win this battle, it was their King.

The demon was amused at the turn around the crew had made, and was even more amused when they drew their weapons. It slowly walked towards them as the mainsail crashed behind it. "These are the lips that taste no freedom." A many headed whip of fire appeared in its left hand. "This is the feel that's not so safe." A sword of lightning appeared in its right hand. "This is the face you'll never change. This is the god that is not pure. This is—"

"—the biggest damn cur I've ever seen!" Yelled the Prince.

That took the demon back a step. The look in that human's eyes, it was…familiar. To think that a human could be that feral! It was going to enjoy this…

The whip lashed out in an instant, and the Prince spun to the side, the whip instead hitting the crew man behind him. His screams of agony were cut short when it pulled the whip back, the sword skewering and electrocuting the man all at once. With the demons hands occupied for that one second, the Prince rushed it.

But the demon was no novice to combat. Sensing the rush, it thrust upward with a powerful sweep of its wings.

Not slowing, the Prince buried one of his two swords in the burning mainmast and used it as a springboard, launching himself upward. He caught a rope that had burned through and swung himself around to the rope work on the side of the ship. He no sooner grabbed the rope than the demon swooped by, the whip blazing a trail through the air towards him. The Prince let go with his hand and fell backward, still gripping the rope with this legs as the whip cracked where his head had been. He instantly swung himself back up and quickly climbed until he got to the crows nest. His feet once again planted firmly on wood, the Prince was able to duck the demons sword swing and dodge the following thrust; He didn't want to know what would happen if their swords collided.

The whip lashed out at him again, wrapping itself around the Prince's sword. Smiling, the demon pulled back, bringing the Prince with it, and spinning in a wide arc to send him off into the darkness.

As the Prince felt the whip begin to unravel on his sword, he put all of his strength into turning his sword in the opposite direction, keeping a tentative hold. The demon kept turning, trying to throw the Prince off, and when the turn was completed, the Prince had his feet back on the wood of the crows nest. Wasting no time, he moved to the other side and yanked sharply on his sword, using the fiery whip to sheer through the top of the mast that protruded through the crows nest. Caught unawares by the Prince's maneuver, the demon failed to react in time, and the falling mast tip hit him squarely on the head.

The demon came crashing down to the cheers of the remaining crew men, and the Prince allowed himself to breath. But he didn't rest long. He wanted more.

He dove off the crows nest and stuck his sword in the remaining sail, cutting it as he slid down, and landed on the deck.

The demon was now thoroughly angry. Nobody embarrassed him like that, even if it was to mere humans! He let out a roar, and surged upward to land in front of the Prince. Now was the time to end it.

"These are the claws that scratch these wounds!" A crewman fell dead, his body shorn by the demon's claws. "This is the pain that never leaves!" Another was thrown into the inferno of the mainsail as his comrade was impaled on the sword. "This is the tongue that whips you down!" The last man's head split open under the force of the whip lash. Now it turned its attention back to the Prince.

"This is the burden of every man!" The Prince had no time to react to the sudden speed with which the demon struck. His left arm was shorn off by the whip, the fire cauterizing the wound, but doing nothing to stop the pain. "These are the screams that pierce your flesh!" The sword entered the Prince's stomach, and came out his back. The demon had called off the lightning, instead letting him writhe on the blade.

"..s…s-some ki..n..o-of…m…mmm..mo-ons…mons…" The Prince could feel his life slipping away.

"This is the voice of silence no more!" the demon yelled before crushing the Prince's head in between it's jaws.

8

**Anu **was an ancient Babylonian god. He was husband to Nintu, and the son of Ahshar and Kishar, father of Ea. In Sumerian mythology, he was the god of the sky, and the father and ruler of all gods.

8

Author's Note: First off, I would like to take a moment and thank Enedorii for my first ever review, and Reploid the Echidna for his continued enthusiasm. You both are awesome.

Moving on, the song for this chapter is Metallica's "Some Kind of Monster." For those of you out there that think "new Metallica" equates to "gay Metallica," you'll just have to live with it.


	12. Ch 10: Inquisition Symphony

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Inquisition Symphony

"_Yokk tu Malektu be-enck do-tu_."

The imp Malektu writhed on the floor in the center of the protective circle. The words of the exaction spell filled him with pain beyond comprehension.

"Speak, imp. Tell me which demon sent you to invade my home."

Malektu's eyes were filled with hate. "I tell you nothing, priest of Deneir!"

"Then your torment will be unending." Cadderly Bonaduce continued the spell of exaction, and the imp howled. Torture, even when inflicted on an imp from the nether planes, pained him. But sometimes, most often with beings from the nether planes, it was a necessary evil.

The young priest had found the imp sneaking around the great cathedral, Spirit Soaring. While Cadderly was well hated by many denizens of the Nine Hells, this imp was not here to harm him nor anyone else at Spirit Soaring. The imp had been looking for something, and Cadderly wanted to know what.

Malektu continued to hurl insults at the priest, threats of greater demons coming in the night to take all that he held dear. The threats were stale in Cadderly's ears; this was not the first time—far from—he had irked an imp.

"If not a name, then tell me what you were looking for, imp. One or the other. Then I will release you." Cadderly added steel to his voice, not giving any indication that the proceedings pained him. He continued the spell of exaction, Malektu's screams escalating into a perverse inquisition symphony.

Eventually, the imp broke. "_Yote_!" it screamed, amid heaving breaths and agonized whimpers. "I look for _yote_!"

That had the priest confused. "_Yote_? The mushroom?"

"Yes, stupid priest! I look for yote for the—" the imp stopped.

"You try my patience, imp. What was the yote for?"

"You say you let me go!" Malektu pleaded. "I tell you and you let me go!"

"The terms have changed. Tell me what the _yote_ was for."

"You lie! Stupid priest lie! I never tell! I neEEEEEEAAAAAGGGHHHH!" Malektu's curses were cut off when Cadderly sent searing pain through the imp. "_Tuanta Quiro Miancay_!" it screamed through the pain. "_Tuanta Quiro Miancay_!"

Cadderly's blood ran cold. Tuanta Quiro Miancay, the Most Fatal Horror.

Malektu almost escaped back to whence he came, but Cadderly recovered and held him fast. "Malektu, _ehugu-winance_! Who is seeking _Tuanta Quiro Miancay_? What demon seeks the Chaos Curse?" He didn't need to fake the steel in his voice, now. He remembered all too well what the Chaos Curse was. "Answer me, imp!" He spoke the words of the spell of exaction more forcefully now.

The imp was afraid. He'd heard tell of how powerful this priest was, but he didn't truly believe it. Now that he was angry, Malektu was granted a small glimpse of his power. "E-E-Errtu! It's Errtu! And another balor, I know not his name. Gamin, or Gaenen, perhaps. I tell the truth! The truth!"

"Very well, imp. Be gone, and hope that I have no further use of you." He muttered an incantation, and the Malektu was gone.

Cadderly slowly fell to his knees, his adrenaline running out as he began to imagine the horror a balor could unleash with _Tuanta Quiro Miancay_. It was like that, on the floor, a distant, scared look in his eyes that his wife, Danica found him.

"Cadderly!" she cried as she rushed to him. "Cadderly!" Danica had seen her husband overcome before, but rarely since he built Spirit Soaring and became the ultimate priest of Deneir.

"The Chaos Curse," he muttered over and over, "the Most Fatal Horror." Shaking him proved ineffective, so she slapped him, hard. He finally looked at her. "Danica…? Danica!" he cried, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "The Chaos Curse! We have to stop them!"

"Stop who?" she asked.

"The demons, the balor! They're trying to recreate the Chaos Curse!"

"Oh…" was all Danica could say, when the full realization hit her. "Oh…oh oh oh…"

Cadderly went back over what the imp had told him. He knew of the balor Errtu from the tales Drizzt had told him. A balor, a greater demon, Errtu was obsessed with the drow ranger. Having fallen twice to Drizzt and his friends, he has taken on the mantle of he who hates Drizzt most, and impressive mantle considering the enemies that the drow has made.

But this other balor, Geanen or whatever his name was…Cadderly had never heard of him. Not in tales of any adventurer nor in any of the obscure and arcane texts that he had studied. He could only imagine the balor's power to be working with Errtu. He must contact Drizzt, he thought, and bring back Ivan and Pikel…

Something inside him stirred. He had blocked out all else in his panic, but now the Song of Deneir, the very feel of the god himself was moving once again within the young priest.

"Danica," he said, completely calm and in control once more, "we must go."

His wife looked at him with eyes still wide. "Go?"

He smiled. "Yes. Deneir has shown me the way. We must leave, tomorrow at the latest."

"But what about the children?" she asked, not wanting to be separated from them with the threat of the Chaos Curse hanging over their heads once again.

"We bring them with us. You, me, the children, and a few others as well, but only one or two. We must travel swiftly."

Danica trusted Cadderly implicitly. Where he led, she would follow. "Where are we going, Cadderly?"

"A kingdom I've never heard of, to be honest. But," he said, looking over to a wall hanging with Deneir's symbol, the eye above the candle, "I have it on good authority that it's there."

Danica had composed herself by now, her years of training in the arts martial once again benefiting her. "What is this kingdom called?" she asked as they left the summoning chamber and stepped into the sunlight. It was a warm day, beautiful and clear. They could hear their children laughing and playing somewhere on the grounds. Cadderly imagined how different the scene would be if even one drop of _Tuanta Quiro Miancay_ found its way here.

"Hyrule," said Cadderly. "We are going to the Kingdom of Hyrule."

8

Author's Note: What's this? Did I just write something with plot, and not just character development? ZOMFG.

Anyways, this chapter's song is "Inquisition Symphony," by Apocalyptica. Because Apocalyptica is sweet.

P.S. For those of you unfamiliar with the Chaos Curse, have no worries, for it shall be explained.


	13. Ch 11: Cells

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Cells

"Where's Tifa?"

"Look, Buddy," said Dante, "I don't know. I was hired to kill the doppelganger and—"

"—bring Cloud back to join some secret group we've never heard of, in some place that we've never heard of, to fight something—wait for it—_that we've never heard of_!" yelled Cid Highwind. After Barret had convinced Cloud and Vincent not to kill Dante, he'd called around to the rest of their rag tag group. So now Cloud, Vincent, Barret, Cid, Yuffie, Cait Sith, and Red XIII were all in Seventh Heaven confronting a slightly annoyed Dante over the body of a demon.

As sad and strange as it may be, no one present thought the situation as too weird.

"Yes," Dante agreed, wondering just what about it was so hard to understand.

"Where's Tifa?" Cloud asked again, unrelenting.

"I dunno. He didn't give me that particular tidbit of information."

"The guy who hired ya, right?" Barret interjected.

"No, the demon inside of Vlad over there," Dante said sarcastically, nodding at Vincent. The room was strangely quiet. "What? Something I said."

"How do you know about Chaos?" asked Vincent, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Oh, so yours has a name?" Dante scratched his chin. "Never thought about giving mine one…Rocky? No…Daemon? Too cliché…Vance? Not tough enough…" he trailed off when he realized everyone was staring at him. Again. "What?"

"That's why you felt…familiar," Vincent said. "How did you acquire the Chaos gene?"

"You wouldn't happen to be a friend of one Professor Hojo, would you?" asked Red XIII, his voice threatening.

"Who?"

"How did you obtain the Chaos gene?" repeated Yuffie, looking up from the demon's body which she had been prodding with her foot.

"What," asked Dante, now just as confused as everyone else, "is the Chaos gene."

No one spoke for a minute, letting Vincent answer in his own time. "Chaos," he said at last, "is a monster. I was given the Chaos gene when I was experimented on, near death. It's…demonic." His red eyes bored into Dante's. "When I look at you, I feel like I'm looking at it."

The other's, having witnessed the destructive power of Chaos, and knowing the burden it was to Vincent, were all respectfully silent.

"Oh…" Dante said. "Is that all?" His laughter cut the silence of the bar, leaving the others irritated and confused.

"What do you mean, 'Is that all?'" asked Yuffie. "Did you hear nothing he just said?"

"I heard it, cutie. Don't be gettin' your panties in bunch." The ninja girl's face turned several shades of red and her eyes narrowed. "It's just funny to see people get so worked up about it. I mean, it's only a demon. Oh sure, it's pretty powerful, but from what I'm feeling from it, I've seen worse." The others just stared. They'd been through military raids, kept it together when fighting the Planets own WEAPONs, defeated the most powerful being alive…but after only minutes of conversation with Dante, they were all at a loss.

"So. Cloud." Said Dante. "How 'bout it? We get outa here, go meet up with my employer, go kick some ass. Hell, I bet you'll even get to rescue your damsel in distress. Whaddya say?"

"I say no," Cloud said flatly as he turned away to leave.

"Aw, are you just gonna be a sorry little bitch and run away again? There goes Cloud, off to mope about his dead ex—"

"What do you know!" Cloud couldn't have stopped himself even if he had wanted to. The shortest blade of the First Tsurugi embedded itself to the hilt in Dante's throat.

Dante's eye hardened and he growled, the sound escaping through his wound. He grabbed the sword and pulled it out. "What do I know?" he asked as his throat healed. "I know that this Tifa chick needs you right now. I know that if you don't come with me, you'll just runaway and retreat into the little cells that you've set up in your mind. I know that you'll be letting down not just the people in this room, but all over the world. And not just this world."

Cloud was surprised. He felt humbled, something that happened extremely rarely. He hated Dante all the more, because he knew he was right.

"I also know that my paycheck will be severely reduced if I go back without you."

Cloud grabbed his blade back from Dante and stormed out of the bar.

"Just what the hell are you?" Barret asked, voicing the opinion of everyone in the room.

"I'm a half-demon, to be blunt. My dad thought that giving me super powers would make up for all the future missed birthdays."

"Why just Cloud?" asked Cait Sith. "History has proven that we tend to get more done when we all work together. I mean, sure, we may not all be as proficient with a sword bigger than ourselves, but we each can hold our own in a conflict."

Dante stood over him, looking down the five foot difference to the small stuffed cat. "You can?"

"I'll have you know this isn't my real body," said Cait Sith, the very picture of injured pride.

"Here's the deal as I see it. My employer is getting together a group, a "super team" if you will, of the best warriors that he has come across, myself included. While I can't speak of the combat skills of any of you, save Red here—"

"You didn't fight Red, you fought Vincent," interjected Yuffie.

"Yeah, the guy wearing red."

"I am commonly referred to as Red XIII," said Red XIII.

Dante sighed. "My bad, didn't mean any offense…"

"Well, get it straight. Red and Vampire Boy are two different people," said Barret.

"That doesn't matter! The thing is, I was sent to bring back Cloud. Nothing was said about you guys." Dante turned and walked to the door.

8

Cloud was leaning against the wall outside the door. Dante stepped out into the sunlight and took up position on the other side.

"You leaving?" Cloud asked after a while.

"Not without you."

Another lengthy pause.

"Why do you want me, anyway?"

"I don't know exactly why I was sent to get _you_, but…Ya got skills. 'S been a while since I've had a fight that fun. Not gonna lie."

"Why should I go with you?"

"I wasn't given a brochure on the highlights of what we'll be doing, but I have a good feeling we'll be whuppin' some ass. Don't know whose, but I'm not picky." There was more silence while Cloud wrestled with opposing thoughts. "But if you don't go, well, then I call first dibs on this Tifa chick. Was that doppelgangers illusion true to life? I assume so, cause you didn't notice and all, but DAMN, that is one hot piece of –"

"I'll go," said Cloud, cutting off Dante before he got any farther.

"Great, it's all settled then. You wanna go back in and do the whole goodbye thing, or shall we just mosey along?"

Cloud was already straddling his motorcycle, Fenrir. "I'll call them later. Where are we headed?"

Dante got on behind him. "Sorry bud, but my bike got trashed, remember? We're going to a place called Hyrule."

"Never heard of it."

"Yeah, me neither. My employer gave me this world traveling doo hickey, though, and it worked to get me here."

"One other thing. How'd you know about...Aerith?"

"My employer told me. He knows alot about you, and a lot about me. Knew some things that even I didn't know. Kinda creepy, but don't tell him I said that."

"Who, exactly, is your employer?" Cloud asked as he revved the engine.

"Guy calls himself the Drifter. Don't know much about him, but he seems a decent guy, and his money's legit. Uses swords. White hair."

Cloud swore. "Why does it always have to be white hair?"

8

Author's Note: Okay, so now we're getting somewhere. Plotlines converging, people meeting, it's all good. Thanks again to those that keep reviewing, and thanks to those that read and don't review. At least you're reading.

The song used this time was "Cells" by The Servant, off the "Sin City" soundtrack. Good band, check 'em out.

Until next time kids!


	14. Ch 12: Deathzone

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Deathzone

"Where are we, My King?"

The Prince of Persia looked around. Everywhere was grey, with a heavy fog covering…nothing. There was nothing. Just the grey and the fog. Mordecai and his crew were gathered around him, looking for answers that he didn't have. They all remembered the demon. They all remembered…

"I…don't know where we are…" began the Prince.

"It is not so much a question of 'where' as it is of 'what,' and what you are is, quite unfortunately…dead."

The Prince whirled around and gasped along with the others at the figure that had not been there just a moment ago. The words were spoken, and masculine sounding, but he didn't hear them so much as _feel_ them.

"What are you?" the Prince asked threateningly, looking the figure over. It wore a black cloak that extended from its hood to whatever was passing for ground at the moment. But it didn't quite end there; it roiled along with the mist, seeming to merge seamlessly with its surroundings. Its face, though, was what gave them all pause. Unidentifiable as either a mask or bone, it was just a circle of white, with two large holes where eyes should have been, black holes that seemed to cancel out light.

The Prince reached for his swords, only to find that they weren't there.

"I am sorry, but your swords are still in the…ah…real world, shall we say. Technically, I'm not supposed to let you bring anything from there with you, including clothes, but I find that people have a hard enough time adjusting to the shock without finding themselves naked as well," explained the figure. He was met with a wall of uncomprehending faces. "What? Do you not believe me?"

A girl—young woman, rather, with a pale face and wearing an ankh around her neck—stepped out from behind the hooded figure and coughed politely.

"Yes? What is it, Clarice?" the hooded figure asked, turning to regard her.

"Sorry sir, but they're _Babylonians_, sir," she said quietly.

"Yes? And?"

Clarice gave the assembled and confused crew a sidelong glance. "You're not quite what they were expecting, sir."

"Oh?" asked the figure. He looked down at himself then. "Oh, I see. Quite right. One moment please," he said to the Prince, and vanished.

Everyone's gaze fell upon Clarice.

"Sorry," she said, "but the Master's getting on in years. His memory isn't what it used to be."

"And just what _is_ your Master…" ventured the Prince, but that's when the "Master" decided to return.

This time, though, there was no hooded figure with a haunting face. This time there was a demon, man-sized, but looking for all the world like the one that had killed them all.

"It is I, Nergal! Your time on the earthly plane has ended!"

Chaos reigned. The men, though dead, were still capable of being afraid, and afraid they were. As one, Mordecai and his crew turned tail and ran from their god of death. The Prince, for his part, immediately threw himself into combat.

"You even follow me into death, cur? I may not have a blade, but I cannot die twice!"

"Actually, you'd be surprised—" Nergal was cut off as the Prince punched him solidly in the face. The god of death raised its hand and the Prince found himself suspended in the air, unable to move. "That will be quite enough of that, thank you." Nergal looked over the Prince's shoulder to the retreating backs of the former crew of the _Tiamat_. "I don't quite know where they expect to get," he said, turning around, and looking at the astonished faces of the crew as they approached. "They're pretty much stuck here until I say otherwise."

More confused than they have been yet, a feat in and of itself, the crew stopped in their tracks. They saw that their King was merely restrained, and not in any discomfort. They also noticed differences between this demonic visage and the one that had attacked them. Cautiously they approached.

"I apologize for the confusion," Nergal said as he lost his demonic features and became the same black figure they had first encountered. "I shall retain this form for the duration of our meeting, as it seemed to startle you a bit less."

"Master?"

"Yes, Clarice?"

The girl was puzzled. "Why didn't you disappear before changing this time?"

"Ah, good question. I wanted to make a proper appearance as Nergal. Remember, girl, appearances are everything in this business." He patted her on the head with an arm that seemed to emerge from his body. "Now then, I hope most of the unpleasantness is behind us, and now we can get down to business. Right. I am Amadeus Thines, the anthropomorphic personification of death." He bowed.

The Prince, always a man of action, found himself at a loss of what to do.

"I am Death. Nergal, god of death and disease!" The blank faces stole some of his momentum. "Ankou? Mictlantecuhtli? Mors? Mot?" Nothing. He sighed. "Look, here's the deal. You are dead. I am here to usher you into death."

"And I am the Prince of Persia. I've escaped you before, and by my life I will free myself and my men from you again!"

"Ah, but that's the thing," Amadeus said sadly. "You don't have a life anymore. You—yes, what is it Clarice?"

"That's him, Master, the one we're supposed to look out for. The Prince of Persia."

"Oh?" asked Amadeus. "Why are we…Oh, yes! That's right." He turned back to regard the Prince. "Indeed, Prince, it looks as though you will escape my hand."

The Prince, a bit surprised, said "Oh. Yes, well…that was easy."

"But I'm afraid your men are still coming with me."

The crew, finally coming to grips with the situation, began to worry again.

"I would suggest against running," Amadeus said when he saw the panicked expressions. "There really isn't anywhere to go. This is a sort of…holding place. A death zone, if you will. "

"Why can't I take my men back with me?" the Prince demanded.

"Because I can only bend the rules so much, Prince," said Amadeus. "Truth be told, I shouldn't even be sending you back. Even I answer to a higher power. But…a friend called in a favor. He told me to keep an eye out for you, and others, should you meet an unfortunate end before he found you. Thankfully Clarice here recognized you before I made a mistake." He placed a hand affectionately on her head.

The crew looked imploringly at the Prince, and he found himself without an answer.

"And there is nothing I can do to bring them with me?"

"No," said Amadeus, his voice tinged with regret.

"Ah," said the Prince. Then, for the second time, the Prince of Persia punched Death himself in the face. "They are coming with me," he said in a voice that left no room for argument. "They did not deserve to die. If I go back, then they go back." The faces of the crew were full of pride. This was _their_ King, fighting for them even in death.

But then he was again suspended in the air, unable to move.

"You are in no position to argue, debate, or force your will, Prince," said Amadeus, his voice hard. "No, they did not deserve to die when and how they did, but they died nonetheless. If they had not then, it would have just been some other time. Everyone dies. The good, the bad; the innocent, the guilty; the young, the old; the godly, and the corrupt. Everyone dies, Prince. Even you. You were once told that you could not change your fate, and it was true. You will still die, Prince. _Nobody_ can change that."

He stopped then, and seemed to shrink a little. "I do so hate having to get all authoritative." He looked back at the Prince. "I am sorry, Prince. But these men are staying dead. You are going back, for better or worse, that is up to you." He turned back to the crew. "Very well then. I believe we've spent long enough dawdling here. Clarice, would you do the honors?"

"M-me, Master?"

"Yes, I believe you to be more than capable."

Clarice, a look of determined uncertainty on her face, stepped forward. "All right." She stepped up to Mordecai. "If I may, Shipmaster, I would like to congratulate you on a life well lived," she said, extending her hand.

Mordecai looked at her quizzically, and regarded her hand warily. Cautiously, he reached out and took her hand. The moment he did, all worry was erased from his face; his eyes didn't glaze so much as they cleared. He smiled. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you." He turned and regarded his crew fondly one last time, then walked off, slowly fading away into the mist.

"W-where'd he go?" asked one of the crew.

"He is dead," Clarice said simply.

The crew, realizing that was as much answer as they were going to get, grudgingly accepted it.

"So…who'd like to be next?" asked Clarice.

One by one, the crew took her hand, they came to peace, and the faded into the mist. When they were gone, Amadeus let the Prince down again.

"What comes next?" the Prince had to ask. "Where exactly did they go?"

If an unchanging mask-like face could smile warmly, then Amadeus' did. "There are some things that you must find out for yourself."

"Unless there is something else you have left to tell me," said the Prince, less than happy with how things had turned out, "I believe you were going to send me back."

"Yes. Clarice? Would you like to take this, one, too?"

"Sure," said the young woman, notably more confident than before. The silver ankh around her neck glinted. She extended her hand. "Prince, I would like to congratulate you on a life unfinished."

8

He awoke to the surf washing over him. The sand stuck to his wet clothing as he pulled himself up. The Prince, suddenly remembering why he was here, felt his neck. No scars. His still had his arm, too. He let out the breath he had been holding before taking in his surroundings.

For the second time in his life, he had washed up amid the wreckage of a ship, driftwood and bodies decorating the cove beach of the Island of Time.

"Wonderful," he said, his voice dripping with cynicism. "Now I'm reliving experiences _without_ the Sands."

8

Author's Note: How wierd is that? The Prince avoiding death without manipulating time. Whatever, it amused me while writing it.

This chapter's song is "Deathzone" by Apocalyptica. Yes, I do have quite a penchant for four cellos playing symphonic rock. Sue me.


	15. Ch 13: The Power of One

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

The Power of One

"So tell me, Mister Drifter…Where'd ye get that fine big blade ye got there? Looks dwarven made te me, but I don't know why a dwarf'd be makin' a sword that bloody big."

The Drifter stood from his chair and unslung the sword at his left hip. "Its name is Rach't."

_It?_

_Hush._

The dwarf respectfully took the sword and ran his hands gently over the blade, admiring the craftsmanship. A simple handle with no hilt, the blade was a hands width, extending a good three and a half feet, where it fanned outward, coming together in a crescent; the blade had no stabbing point. Runic characters were etched onto both sides of the blade.

"What're these markings for, then?" asked the dwarf.

"They dispel magic," explained the Drifter. "Magic aimed at the wielder is nullified, providing quite a useful shield in combat."

"Aye, that'd be useful indeed…" Bruenor's eyes lit up with the possibilities.

"Alas," said the Drifter, "I know not the proper method for etching the runes, and the smith is long dead."

"Ah. Well then," said the dwarf King as he handed the sword back.

"Back to the subject at hand," said Drizzt, "I believe you were trying to recruit me for a group of fighters, yes, but to fight what?"

The Drifter sat back down. "I believe you know one of the enemies quite personally. A demon by the name of Errtu."

The Companions of the Hall bristled as one. "Errtu…the balor?" asked Cattie-brie.

Link, oblivious to the mounting tensions of those at the table, was playing a game of tag with the fairies and Pikel Bouldershoulder, while his brother Ivan looked on disapprovingly. The Bouldershoulder brothers were an odd pair. Ivan was yellow bearded and stuck to traditional dwarf practices. Pikel, on the other hand, was an oddball by anyone's standards. A self proclaimed "Doodad," or druid, he died his beard green and wore it braided together over his shoulders.

"Yes," said the Drifter.

"But Errtu shouldn't be a problem," said Wulfgar. "We defeated him not long ago, and thus he should be banished from this plane for a century!"

The Drifter took a deep breath. "What few people realize is that there are many, many aspects of one plane." He leaned forward. "Have any of you ever wondered if there might be other worlds out there? Worlds that you don't know about? An alternate reality, perhaps, or a place where the laws that affect you here don't even exist?"

The Companions were leaning in now, too. "Yes," confessed Drizzt, and the others followed suit with somewhat sheepish grins. All except Bruenor. The dwarfs sensibilities were focused on the here and now, sometimes the future, and never in a place that he didn't think existed.

"Those worlds exist," said the Drifter. "All of them, and more. I am from one of them, and Link is from another."

Behind them, Link rolled to the side and Pikel, who had been giving chase, ran face first into the stone wall. Tatl, not knowing the resilience of dwarves, flew over to see if he was okay and got tagged for her effort.

"And what do these other worlds have to do with our big ugly friend?" asked Bruenor.

"Defeating Errtu banished him from the Material Plane of _this_ world. Up until now, demons have remained, thankfully, unaware of other worlds beyond the one they normally concern themselves with." The Drifter sighed. "I don't know how it happened, but they have become aware. Errtu is one of the demons out there causing the most damage. I set out to assemble a team of warriors that I believe to stand a chance at finding a way to put the demons back where they belong. You were one of my first considerations, Drizzt Do'Urden."

Drizzt sat back and coolly met the Drifters gaze.

Link was dodging just out of Tatl's reach, when Pikel waggled his fingers. The stone floor softened slightly, causing Link's foot to become caught. The hero went down, an easy target for the fairy. Link glared at Pikel, who looked the very picture of injured innocence.

"Why me?" asked Drizzt at last.

"Because I've been hearing tales of your feats for many years now, and I know many of them to be true. I've even been witness to your battle prowess. In Icewind Dale," he clarified, seeing the question in the drow ranger's eyes.

"But how? I thought you were not of this world."

"I am not originally of this world, but I've been wandering between the worlds for a very long time now. I've been to Faerun multiple times, and there is no one better suited, in my opinion, to champion this world than you, Drizzt."

"Again, why me? If there are as many worlds as you claim, there surely must be others as good—if not better—fighters than I."

"Because few of them would see fit to protect a place they've never heard of, believing that as long as they stay and defend their homeland, they will emerge victorious. When in actuality, they would be letting the enemy build up its strength unhindered. That is why I sought you out."

Drizzt was silent for a moment before pushing back from the table. "In this world we live in…with all that is said and done…it can well overrun the power of one. I will have an answer for you on the morrow, Drifter. Goodnight." He turned and left the hall, Cattie-brie following shortly.

Pikel narrowly dodged Link's grab for him, and the hero tumbled headfirst into Ivan. Link, fortunately for him, disentangled himself quickly and was able to get a head start in running from the irate dwarf. "Ye blasted kid! Ye're no better than me brother!"

Ivan was followed out by the fairies and Pikel, sandals flapping wildly and shouting "Me Brudder!"

8

"So what are ye going to do?" Cattie-brie asked from her position sitting on the bed.

Drizzt stopped pacing the room long enough to answer. "I don't know," he said, his lavender eyes staring at the floor. "Obould may be dead, but the fact remains that we are still at war."

Cattie-brie sighed, knowing he was right. Obould Many-Arrows, the orc leader that had actually managed to unite the orc tribes, had fallen into the earth during freak earthquake that had interrupted his fight with Drizzt. The same fight that Khazid'hae had been lost in. "Could someone else go instead?" she wondered aloud.

"No," Drizzt said instantly. "Bruenor can't go. Mithral Hall would suffer greatly during battle with the absence of its King. Neither you nor Wulfgar could go; Bruenor needs you by his side, little though he admits it. Regis, while having certainly become bolder in his exploits, is no warrior. If any were to go, it would have to be me."

Cattie-brie frowned. "But so soon after your return…" At the beginning of the orc invasion, Drizzt had been separated from his friends during battle. A ruse that had the enemy thinking them dead also convinced Drizzt of that fact. Believing he had nothing to live for, he recklessly and mercilessly attacked any enemy encampment he came across, with complete disregard for his own life. Thankfully, the drow ranger was reunited with his friends. The emotional reunion prompted Drizzt to finally act on his feelings for Cattie-brie.

"Unfortunately, the world doesn't stand still for anyone, under any circumstance," said Drizzt.

Cattie-brie looked at him for a moment before saying, "Ye're going, ain't ye? Yer minds already made up."

"Why do you say that?"

She smiled. "Because I be knowin' ye, Drizzt Do'Urden. Here comes a man with offer of an adventure in a land ye've never heard of. Sure, we're at war, but thanks to yerself, it's nothing we can't handle by ourselves." She stood up and walked over, putting her arms around his neck. "And I know that no matter what happens, ye'll be coming back. Ye always do. And ye can't resist the pull of the road. Neither can I, and honestly, I'm more than a little jealous. But that's besides the point. Ye're going, so let's—"

"I haven't decided ye—" Cattie-brie silenced him with a finger on his lips.

"So let's make the most of our time together," she said before replacing her finger with her own lips.

8

The next morning found Link and Pikel staring bleary eyed at the world. Bags were evident under their eyes.

Breakfast was a simple affair of oatmeal and biscuits, though it seemed a bit too _simple_.

"What'd ye do different to the oatmeal?" Breunor asked a passing servant. "It seems te be lacking something."

"I'm sorry, Me King, but there was not enough honey to flavor all the oatmeal sufficiently."

Link and Pikel suddenly became more aware of what was going on.

"No honey? But we just got a shipment up from Settlestone! Where'd all the blasted honey go?"

Link and Pikel both found their bowls _very_ interesting.

"Indeed we did, King, but…we don't know where it went. I suppose someone could have snuck in and eaten it all, but why would they do that? I don't think that they'd be enjoying it much afterward, either, that much honey at once."

Link and Pikel were now totally absorbed in their bowls, not looking up at anyone. Across the table, Ivan was staring intently at the two.

Drizzt chose that moment to enter the room, putting a temporary damper on the subject of missing honey. He sat down directly across from the Drifter. "I've thought about your proposal, Drifter, and I must say it intrigues me very much." He paused. "But to be frank, how do I know if I can trust you?"

"You can't," replied the Drifter. "You'll just have to go on instinct."

Drizzt smiled a little. "Very well then. For now, you have my blades."

The other Companions of the Hall looked on, mixed emotions playing on their faces. If what the Drifter said was true, then Drizzt most definitely was needed elsewhere. Even so, they were still surrounded by a massive orc army.

"Where do set off to?" asked Drizzt.

"We're going back to Link's home to pick up the last member of our little party."

"Why didn't you pick him up when you did Link?"

"Because he's not _quite_ there yet. You'll see what I mean," he said in answer to the question that was already forming in Drizzt's mind.

"About that missing honey…" said Ivan, prompting Link and Pikel to quickly extract themselves from the dining area. "No ye bloody don't!" shouted the yellow bearded dwarf as he stormed off after the retreating duo.

Drizzt turned back to the Drifter. "I think we should leave as soon as we're ready, if only for Link's safety."

"Agreed," said the Drifter, turning his attention to his bowl of unsweetened oatmeal.

8

Author's Note: A hurray is called for, what with another completed chapter, converging story lines, and at least one reviewer! Hurray!

Yeah, enough with the over exagerated happiness. This chapter's song is "The Power of One" by Sonata Arctica. Yay for power metal!


	16. Ch 14: Faceless

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Faceless

Every toppled pillar, every rocky outcropping, every crumbling wall, and every conveniently placed pole held memories for the Prince. He had used them all at least once in his desperate attempt to live on the Island. He made his way along the familiar paths, both enjoying and missing the feeling of everything around him wanting to kill him.

From the beach, he sidled along the cliff faces and leapt from pillar to pillar to ground until he reached the rotting gates that allowed him access to the outer walls of the Fortress of Time. He rolled under them and followed the long pathway filled with sudden upheavals of earth, serving no purpose other than to impede progress. It led him to a courtyard with a great chasm running through it. He allowed himself a moment of reminiscence as he walked across the bridge over the chasm, the place where he had first fought the Crow Master. He ran along the walls and used protrusions as leverage, eventually making his way to the top of the wall. Continuing on, he once again set foot in the Fortress of Time.

The hallways were still lined with the traps that had made his life just that much harder, but this was three thousand years after they had last been in use. No blades spun as he passed them, no bladed logs fell towards him. The best he got was a brief shower of sparks as one circular blade tried to move.

He passed through more familiar rooms, climbed more columns, and jumped more gaps. He slid down the aged wall hangings and leapt across spike filled pits like it was second nature. And, in truth, it was.

Every so often, he would stop, imagining that he could here heavy footsteps. Each time, he felt foolish for letting his imagination get the best of him. The Fortress certainly did bring back memories, including the unrelenting pursuit of the Dahaka.

He finally came to the main chamber, the ceiling extending far, far above him. He jumped down from the balcony that served as the entrance on to what remained of the floor. It was a big enough target, but if he missed, he didn't know how far he'd fall. He walked between the twin rows of columns, and past the capstans that had allowed him access to the high doors on either side of the chamber. The floor was also missing in front of the doorway leading to the throne room, but not enough to daunt the Prince. A leap had him out over the chasm, and he grabbed the edge. He hauled himself up and reflected on how good it felt to really stretch his muscles again.

Another hallway presented itself, with traps in the same state of disrepair as those before. He ran along the wall and pushed off to land on a ledge on the other side. He sidled along until he reached ground, which put him right in front of the door.

He jumped and pulled the switch that opened the door.

He rolled under it before it could close.

He stood up and looked at the giant hourglass in the center of the room.

He fell to his knees.

There was sand in the glass. While hourglasses usually do, this was different. It was falling from the top bulb, into a middle bulb, and finally into the bottom bulb. But the amount of sand in the top never decreased.

The Sands of Time.

"No," he moaned at the futility of it all. He had restored the Sands to the hourglass, killed the Empress of Time, stopped the Sands from being created, reversed it all, and then killed the Dahaka. Then Kaileena had taken the Sands from this world. He had seen both Kaileena and the dagger fade away into nothing.

Why were the Sands still here?

A thump that reverberated through the floor was followed by a crash. The Prince felt wood splinters hit his back. Everything around him was being leeched of its color.

"Leave me be," he growled, slowly standing.

He turned to face the Dahaka.

Easily ten feet tall, the Dahaka filled the hole where the doorway had been. Darkness rolled off it in waves. Its horns twisted in opposition each other, the tips meeting in front of the head, faceless save for the eyes.

"You are dead," said the Prince evenly. "You didn't kill me, I killed you. You don't exist anymore!" he shouted as he threw himself at the monstrosity.

The Dahaka didn't dodge. It didn't need to. The Prince was without the Water Sword, the one weapon that had allowed him to harm the beast before. But the Prince was beyond caring. His life wasn't his anymore. Again. To the powers that be, he was a nuisance, a troublesome dog that wouldn't do as it was told.

Ferocity filled him, sharpening his already vicious battle skills. Twisting in mid-air, he dodged the whip-like tendrils the Dahaka sent forth, landing a solid punch. When his fist connected, he didn't feel pain, didn't feel the Dahaka flinch or give ground, but he did feel something…familiarity? Like a part of him was recognized by the Dahaka, and mingled with it, embraced it.

The Prince pulled back, not daring to ponder what had happened until he was away. He didn't know what had happened, but he did know that he wouldn't be hurting the Dahaka this fight. Gaping at his hand in wonderment would only get him killed. He turned and ran.

He ran up the stairway that wrapped around the hourglass and into the throne room. He rushed to the back of the room, the Dahaka's footsteps shaking the ground behind him. Behind the throne, the wall had been shattered, and he rushed through the hole.

There. In front of him was a portal of sand, and it would hurl him three thousand years into the past, when the fortress was still in use.

A thought crossed his mind as he threw himself into the swirling Sands. _Rubble was blocking the hole behind the throne in this time. It was in the past when I was able to access this portal. _Any further observation was cut short as he felt one of the Dahaka's tendrils close in on his leg.

8

Author's Note: Yay, another update. Thanks for sticking with me this far, and next chapter will be epic.

Song used was Godsmack's "Faceless," because those crazy kids at Ubi Soft were WRONG and Godsmack DOES work with the Prince of Persia.


	17. Ch 15: Fun Night

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Fun Night

Talon ducked behind the counter in time to avoid the bottle. It shattered on the wall, but nobody took notice. They were too busy fighting.

"I knew those two were trouble," he grumbled under his breath. "They walk in, and I _knew_ there was gonna be trouble." Fortunately, he had learned to read the signs long ago, and had started taking down the more expensive bottles off the self before anything happened. Somebody screamed and heard the crunch of wood. "Blasted white haired loudmouth, thinkin' he can just waltz in…" he grumbled, trailing off as he heard more sounds of his bars evident destruction.

"So where are these other two?" Drizzt asked. The drow was sitting on the edge of Hyrule Castle Town's fountain with Link, the Drifter preferring to stand.

The Drifter looked less than pleased. "I told Dante, 'the center of the Castle Town, at the fountain." He looked around irritably. "They should have been here by now."

"Maybe he got the day wrong?" Drizzt wondered.

"No. Three days, I told him. Three days from when I hired him, at sunset, Castle Town Market, fountain."

"Perhaps he ran into trouble."

The Drifter shook his head. "No. Dante doesn't run into trouble. Trouble runs into Dante."

From the direction of the Castle came a squad of guards, led by two angry citizens. They hurried past the three by the fountain and into one of the side streets. Above the rooftops, a small trail of smoke could be seen.

Link, being an honorary member of the Guard for services rendered, jumped up and ran after them.

"Why," said the Drifter, "do I get the feeling that we should follow them?"

"I was wondering exactly the same thing."

8

Janos Tind wondered what he had done wrong. He prayed daily to the Goddesses, was good to his wife and child, and even did some volunteer work at Lon Lon Ranch. Every now and again, he liked to sit down in Talon's bar and have a drink, maybe sing a few songs with his pals, and all in all just have a good time.

What, exactly, did he do to deserve this?

He stepped out of the path of a flying bottle, only to be bowled over by a flying body. Both men untangled themselves and stood up slowly, looking at each other for assurance that they weren't imagining this.

"C'mon," complained the man in the center of the bar, "I thought we were gonna have some fun!"

His companion was leaning in the corner near Janos. "Aren't you going to do something?"

"He's your problem," said the man in the corner. "You deal with him."

Janos turned away in frustration, and faced the man in the center again. He advanced cautiously, easing his way around the perimeter of the room, hoping to make an exit with no incident. But the man noticed him.

"You," he said, extending an arm to Janos, "let's do this, I'm starting to get bored."

Janos started to move faster to the exit, but slipped on something that had spilled. Flailing his arms, he hit the edge of a table, sending it crashing down and launching the candle that was on it. The man avoided the candle, letting it sail harmlessly past.

"Playing with fire now? Oh, this could be fun…" Fortunately, he never got any farther than that. The guards burst through the door, and looked about at the unconscious bodies and overturned tables. The man stood a little straighter. "Officer, arrest that man!" He pointed at the slowly rising Janos. "He tried to harm me!"

The officers looked at Janos. They looked back at the man, standing tall with a great sword on his back. . They looked back to Janos, covered in bruises and unsteady on his feet.

They made the arrest.

8

Link was the first to arrive, closely followed by Drizzt and the Drifter. The Drifter couldn't help but sigh.

"I'm innocent! You have the wrong man!" yelled Dante, under the pressing weight of the six guards trying to subdue him.

"Innocent as to what?" Cloud asked, leaning back against the alley wall. "I seem to recall it _was _you that started the fight."

The guards managed to get Dante to the ground. "You're not helping much," he said.

"Sir Link!" the guard captain stood before the green clad Hero. "We have the situation under control now, sir." He saluted. "We have arrested the miscreant and are retrieving the last of the bodies from the building. Merely unconscious sir," he added as he saw Links eyes harden.

"What happened here?" Drizzt asked.

The captain looked back at the bar. "Well, sir—"

"Oh, I can tell you what happened!" came Dante's muffled voice from underneath a pile of guards.

Cloud pushed himself off of the wall. "Yes, tell them how you started a bar fight because they didn't have your drink." He made his way over to Link and the others. "Which one of you is the Drifter?" he asked, his gaze switching between Drizzt and the Drifter.

"I am," said the Drifter. "And you are Cloud."

Cloud nodded.

"Drizzt," said the drow, extending his hand. Cloud looked at it before taking it in his own. He turned to the last of the group.

"And this is…?"

Link opened his mouth to reply, but Tatl flew out of his cap and into Clouds face.

"The kid is Link, and I'm Tatl. And don't think you're gonna be the number one hero around here, 'cause the spots already taken!"

Cloud swatted at the fairy, but Tatl was persistent, and kept herself in Clouds face until Navi tackled her out of the air.

"Don't judge all fairies by her. She's a little fiery." She rose up to Clouds level, but stayed a respectable distance from his face. "Nice to meet you Cloud. I'm Navi."

Cloud only nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

"Now that introductions are out of the way," said the Drifter, "might we be able to find out what happened here?"

"It was like I said. He started a fight because they didn't have his drink," said Cloud.

"It's a bar!" yelled Dante from under the pile of guards, which had grown by two during the introductions. "I should be able to walk into a bar and get a drink."

"Which you could've," said Cloud. "But you went and started making demands."

"You call that drink? All they had was milk! MILK, for gods' sake. Not a drop of booze anywhere!"

Link and the Captain looked at each other quizzically. Alcohol? Indeed there was wine, but that was expensive, and used only on special occasions.

"A bar that sells only milk?" asked Drizzt. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Me neither," said Cloud, "but when the sign says 'Milk Bar,' you can make a safe assumption."

"Well excuse me," said the muffled voice of Dante.

The Drifter turned to the Captain. "What is the extent of the damages?"

Talon, who had been standing slightly to the side, and unable to contain himself anymore, was more than willing to tell him. "Well, we can start off the list with starting a fight that involved everyone—"

"If everyone took part, then was it entirely his fault?" asked Drizzt.

"Everyone took part," explained Cloud, "whether they wanted to or not. When people started trying to sneak out the door, he brought the fight to them."

"Then there's all the milk I lost. That's rupees out of my own pocket, that is!"

"It was _milk_," Dante said sourly.

"Aye, and some of it bloody expensive milk, too!"

"What else?" asked the Drifter, not wanting anymore confrontations.

"How about the damage to the bar itself! I don't think a single table's unbroken in there!" A _whumph_ followed by a whoosh of air and the shattering of glass behind Talon made him freeze. Talons eyes got a faraway look in them. "Don't tell me…"

"Call for the Fire Brigade!"

Talon bent his head, and cried.

"Captain," said the Drifter, "I know this crime is not to be taken lightly, and that punishment must be just and swift. But this man is on a mission of great import, and this matter must be resolved expediently. What channels must we go through to get this unpleasant business done and over with?"

The Captain of the Guard sneered. "Oh, I don't think anything's gonna be expedient about this, been a long time since something this big happened he—" Link put his hand on the Captains shoulder. The shared a hard look, where much was said.

"I suppose," the Captain said after looking away, "that we can take this matter directly before the Princess, but…"

"Whoa whoa whoa, _Princess_?" asked Dante beneath the press of guards. "As in, female, highborn, usually ridiculously good looking?"

The Captain looked nervous. "Yes…"

"Okay, then," said Dante, standing up and shrugging of the guards like leaves. "Let's do this. I'm always ready to meet a pretty girl."

"Ya know," said Tatl to Link as the group moved through town towards the castle, "I think this might be a fun night."

"Fun, probably not. Interesting, perhaps," replied Navi. "But," she said, echoing Links own thoughts, "this can only end in tears."

8

Author's Note: Wow...::looks ashamed::...yeah...sorry about the wait time there. Blame my friend, he bought me World of Warcraft. Well, that and all the anime I got...whatever, enough with the excuses. Hopefully HOPEFULLY it won't be this long in between chapters again, but who can tell?

A very big thanks goes out to all you reviewers, you guys are my drive to update. So props to you.

This chapters song was "Fun Night" by Andrew W.K. How that man manages to be so happy yet sound so angry, I will never know.


	18. Ch 16: Diene Welt

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Diene Welt (Your World)

"So, this Princess…she cute?"

Link remained silent. Tatl didn't. "You know what 'Princess' means, right?"

"Yeah," said Dante. "Rich, beautiful, hair like the sun and all that poetic stuff."

Tatl laughed. "It means 'out of your league'."

Dante was unphased. "I've never met a woman able to resist my charm." He stopped walking and struck a pose, providing the guards behind him with a reason to give him a more than gentle prod with the butts of their spears.

"Enough, Dante. We have places to be," said the Drifter, moving purposefully along the stone corridor. The Demon Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as they were brought before two great double doors. Carved out of ivory, they gave the feeling of grandeur and regality that can only be found in the home of either the excessively rich, or the royal. Most often both.

"Presenting her Royal Majesty, Ruler of the Kingdom of Hyrule, the Princess Zelda."

The doors were pulled open, and on a high white throne at the end of the large room sat the Princess. The guards led the group in, and they stopped before the throne. She sat regally, hands resting on the armrests of the ivory throne. Her blonde hair was swept back out of her face and hung down her back, save for two strands that framed her face. And while one could easily tell that it was a face made for compassion, it was stern now. Her blue eyes first settled on Link as the most familiar face, then zeroed in on Dante, he being the only one surrounded by guards.

Link knelt before the Princess, as did the Drifter. Drizzt and Cloud followed their example, knowing it made things a good deal easier if you didn't disrespect the regional rule. The guards remained standing, to keep an uneasy eye on Dante, who also didn't kneel.

"Your Majesty," the Drifter said, lifting his head to look at her, "I am the Drifter, emissary of Queen Emi-run and the Kingdom of Alajra. I fear that one of my group has created damage of property and bodily harm to multiple residents in the castle town area." He lowered his head further.

"That'd be me, Gorgeous," Dante smiled and winked. Zelda didn't spare him a glance.

"I see," she said, turning to the Captain. "What exactly are the charges, Captain?"

"Seventeen counts of unprovoked violence, thirteen counts of assaulting a guard, currently uncountable counts of wanton destruction of merchandise, and one count of arson, Your Majesty."

"Arson?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Talon's Milk Bar, in one of the back alleys of the Castle Town Market."

The Drifter spoke up. "I recognize that these crimes cannot be ignored, yet it must be brought to your attention that we are on a mission of great importance."

Zelda returned her gaze to the Drifter. "And what is this mission, that you would have me deal with these crimes immediately, rather than letting them run through the proper channels?"

"A mission that should touch the ears of only those that need know," answered the Drifter.

Zelda nodded to the guards in the room, but not before looking to Link, and they took their leave. The guards shuffled unhappily through the doors, leaving the Princess alone with the group. The high ceiling of the throne room echoed with the rustling of clothing and the slight clink of metal as the group stood.

"Now then," she said, "Before we continue, I would know who you all are."

"Indeed," replied the Drifter. "I am, as said before, the Drifter, emissary of Queen Emi-run of the Kingdom of Alajra. With me is Cloud Strife of Edge, a former mercenary." He motioned to Cloud, and Cloud bowed respectfully, if begrudgingly.

"Drizzt Do'Urden of Mithral Hall, formerly of Ten-Towns and Menzoberranzen, a ranger." The drow bowed low, his lavender eyes twinkling.

"And Dan—"

"I'm Dante, Demon Hunter Extraordinaire, Possessed of masculine charm the likes of which you've never seen, and proprietor of the establishment 'Devil May Cry'." Dante smiled lewdly. "But you can call me whatever you feel like, Beautiful."

Not a muscle on Zelda's face moved. "Indeed, it would seem that I have never heard of any of these places. Neither in dealing with diplomats from foreign regions, nor even in stories we tell to our children. Where, I ask, do you come from exactly?"

A wry grin played on the Drifters face. "Explaining our mission would answer that question, Your Majesty."

The Princess nodded. "Very well then."

"Our mission," said the Drifter "is to stop demons from ignoring the borders between the worlds." He paused, but Zelda only waited for him to continue. "Until recently, demons stayed in the hells that had been open to them, always seeking to escape to the Material Plane. Somehow, they have discovered the existence of other worlds."

"Discovered? It is my knowledge that demons are indeed aware of the existence of other worlds, and thus are trying to break into them."

"Truly, this is and has always been the case," said the Drifter.

"You're telling me," said Dante. Despite himself, Drizzt couldn't help but smile at the comment.

"Then why come here? Is Hyrule in immediate danger?"

The Drifters face hid no lies. "Yes, Your majesty. Hyrule is threatened, as is Edge, Mithral Hall, and Earth. It is true that this world differs from the hells that demons originate from, but so does this world from my world."

A line of confusion played out on the Princess's forehead. "I fail to see how my world can differ from your world, Drifter. Here you stand, a human as you would have me believe, no strange altercations about you…"

"If you would be so kind, My Lady, to extend your hand?"

Zelda looked quizzically at him, but held out her hand nonetheless.

"There," said the Drifter, "you have just brushed a thousand different worlds. Though you can't see them, feel them, or sense them in any way, they are there. Right now, a battle is being fought at this very spot. A dying woman is holding her child's hand, right here." He raised both his arms, extending them as far as they would reach. "The worlds overlap, Your Majesty, entire universes occupying the same space, but out of reach." He let his arms drop. "It is these worlds, Your Majesty, all of these worlds, which the demons have learned of. They see beyond the small possibilities of the single world they are used to, be it Hyrule, Faerun, or another, into the endless possibilities of _everywhere_.

Zelda's eyes went wide as realization came over her. A breathy, "Oh…" was all she could say.

The Drifter looked her in the eye. "Know that I am not lying to you, Your Majesty. I do like to keep knowledge of the other worlds limited, as things can get a bit…messy, when worlds open up to one another. I would ask that until such time as you deem it wise, that you would keep this information to yourself."

The Princess just nodded, not trusting herself to speak after such a revelation.

"My hope is to eliminate the threat before it becomes too great. I do not fool myself into thinking that I can destroy every demon. I do believe I can eliminate the ones with the power to lead a break through to the other worlds. Nor do I feel that I can do this by myself."

"Giving you cause to search out these individuals," Zelda finished for him.

The Drifter smiled. "Exactly. Each of these men I have seen in battle multiple times, though not even they knew it. I have selected them from amongst many as the best candidates with the greatest chance of success. Link was the second I approached. Unfortunately," the Drifter's tone dropped, "it would appear that my plans might have been set into motion later than desirable."

Link's face darkened at this, and Navi flew a bit closer.

"A group of orcs was following me as I led Navi back to Hyrule. While it might have been quicker to approach Drizzt sooner, having stopped in Faerun for a short while, I thought I had the time to reunite the two. After hearing Navi's story, I could do nothing but help her. It was when the orcs followed me to where the world was stretched thin, that they broke through, into the Lost Woods, where Link fought them off."

"An entire band of orcs?" Drizzt cut in, the Drifters words having brought a sinking feeling to his gut.

"I take it this is an unusual occurrence?" asked Zelda

"Yes," said Drizzt, having intimate knowledge of orc hunting parties. "While it' not uncommon at all for orcs to attack a lone traveler, it is for an entire party to follow a single target. The only reason I can think of as to why they would do that would be that they had orders."

Drizzt's face fell. "No…"

The Drifter nodded. "We can only hope that I am wrong."

There was a long, thoughtful silence. "Very well," said Zelda, determination clear on her face. "I understand your urgency, Drifter. Know that you have the support of the Kingdom of Hyrule." She turned to Dante. "As for you, Dante, I am willing to overlook your transgressions this time. This does not mean, however, that you have free reign to--"

"Yeah, yeah," cut in Dante. "Don't start fights until I'm famous enough to get out of them scott free, got it." He rolled his arm, as if preparing for a fight. "Well, then, gents…shall we get going?"

"As crass as Dante may be, he does get the job done, Your Majesty. Indeed it would be wise to gather the last member of our group before leaving Hyrule."

Zelda blinked in surprise. "Here? As much as Hyrule prides itself on its militaristic capabilities, I can think of no one—"

"The man in question is not Hylian, Your Majesty. Neither can he be found in Hyrule currently. It is Hyrule, though," said the Drifter, raising his hand to stay the questions on everyone's tongue, "through which he can be reached." He looked at the confused face of the Princess. "Would you like to accompany us to the Temple of Time, Your Majesty?"

8

Author's Note: Well, here we go again. Too long between updates, and too much of letting you guys down : (. I do so apologize. Don't hurt me. Too bad.

This chapter is best read listening to "Diene Welt," by the astoundingly amazing E Nomine. Hurrah for Apocalyptic German Trance!

P.S. I love reviewers : )


	19. Ch 17: Enter Sandman

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Enter Sandman

Tatl prodded Dante some more, unrelenting in her small victory. "Go on! Say it!"

The Demon Hunter glowered at the fairy, hoping that she would suddenly drop out of the air. "No."

"C'mon, you lost! Now say it!"

"No."

"If you say it, I'll leave you alone…"

Dante glowered some more. "No you won't."

"No," Tatl conceded, "I won't. JUST SAY IT!"

Drizzt couldn't help but laugh at Dante's predicament. "She's not going to let you go until you say it."

"You're not helping any," sulked Dante, his withering gaze never leaving the bobbing fairy.

"Give up already. You're even more annoying when you lose than normal." Cloud let a rare grin slip as he and Drizzt shared a look behind the Demon Hunter's back.

Dante sighed. Even he knew when he couldn't win. Not that he'd always admit it, but he did know. "Alright," he sighed, with great exaggeration. "The little blue whistle isn't completely useless."

Link smiled.

"There," said Zelda, pointing beyond the newly revealed doorway in the Temple of Time. The group moved forward into the chamber. "Is this what you were looking for, Drifter?"

The chamber was wide, at least fifty feet across. At the center was a pedestal, raised upon a series of large, spacious steps. The Drifter zeroed in on the pedestal, making immediately for it. "Yes, Your Majesty. Exactly what I was looking for." He spread his arms a little, as if experiencing a gentle breeze. "I can feel the flow of time here extraordinarily well."

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "You can _feel_ the flow of time? But doesn't time flow everywhere?"

"An astute observation made by someone that has their sensibilities grounded. I like that. Yes, Cloud, time does indeed flow everywhere. You and I are both growing older, dust is accumulating all around us…but there are some places where the time flow is noticeable. Come closer, all of you." The group moved around the Drifter, standing around the pedestal. "Tell me what you feel."

A long silence held, as each person focused on what their senses were telling them. "I feel…" began Drizzt, "older…?"

"That would be one way of putting it," said the Drifter, "and broadly speaking, that's correct."

"It feels like I'm caught in a stream," ventured Cloud.

The Drifter nodded. "Yes. That is the time flow."

"It feels like…like…like I'm constantly and acutely aware of every second washing over me…" They all looked at Dante. "What?" he said, the picture of injured innocence.

"It would appear that this is not your first intimate experience with time," observed Zelda. "Nor would it appear that your manners are better kept within sacred grounds."

Dante grinned widely. "Sorry to disappoint, but I count this as a victory, Princess my dear. You actually talked to me." He turned to the side and held his head high, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Could this be the start of something…more?"

The Drifter put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Dante, there is a time and a place for everything—"

"Aw, but don't ya know? Time is just an illusion."

The Drifter smiled. "How right you are." This got a curious look from all. "Time itself is constantly flowing. Never stopping, ebbing, or surging. The illusion itself lies in the…habit, if you will, of things to stay within the time flow, letting it wash over them with no interference. It is when one steps closer to understanding how the cosmos works when they understand that time is not something one has to conform to. Link, Dante, and yourself, My Lady," he said, turning to Zelda, "have all taken a step in that direction. And now it's time to take another step." He reached inside his cloak and withdrew a pouch. "Until now, you've all had vertical movements through time. Backwards or forwards, whether it was merely slowing down time or jumping across multiple years. Now it's time to add a horizontal movement."

He loosened the strings of the pouch and reached inside. "A horizontal movement doesn't have so much to do with time as it does space. In truth, we all have made both horizontal and vertical movements, but few have made them in the same instance." The Drifter noticed more than a few wrinkled brow's among his audience. "As it is," he said, "what I'm about to do is a movement through time, by several thousand years, and space, by entire worlds."

"How, if I may ask?" inquired Zelda. "The Temple of Time serves as a link to the Sacred Realm and nowhere else."

"It serves as a link to the Sacred Realm because of the catalyst," he nodded at Link, "the Master Sword." A glimmer of understanding showed on the Princesses face. "A link to another world is possible so long as an item from that world is used as the catalyst. In this instance," he brought his hand out of the bag, and something sifted from between his pinched fingers, "I have the Sands of Time." He held his arm above the pedestal and sprinkled the Sands down. He took a few steps back, and the others followed his example.

The Sands never hit the floor. Their fall simply stopped, as if gravity didn't apply, and they began swirling around a point above the pedestal. They swirled faster and tighter, condensing into a sphere. An intense light shown from the center of the sphere, perforating the Sands around it and cracking the surface. With a whoosh of air the sphere collapsed upon itself and imploded, leaving a bright glow—there being no better word for it—hanging in the air, looking to be equal parts light and sand.

"Perfect. Any second now, our guest should ente—"

"MU!"

The Drifter was bowled over by the man that had fallen out of the glow. "MU!" he screamed again, clawing at the ground in a desperate attempt to get away from the glow…and the thing that had followed him through.

"Cerberus, Dante!" yelled the Drifter, and Dante immediately brought out the flail and slammed it down on the tentacle that had wrapped itself around the man's leg. It let go, but did not stop the advance of the creature as it emerged fully. The world had drained of its color, leaving everything dead shades of brown. "Damn," the Drifter swore, bringing the two swords at his side to bear. "Unexpected, to say the least. Everyone back, save Dante and myself." The creature brought itself up to full height, an impressive sight, and paused as it took in the new surroundings. "Malku, kataru!" he said, turning to the new man, obviously disoriented yet never taking his eyes off of the creature in front of them. He glanced at the Drifter, noticing him for the first time.

"Kataru," he nodded his assent. "Mu adi la basi alaku."

"Idu," responded the Drifter. "It's as I thought," he said to the others, "only water will harm this beast."

Dante swaggered forward, swinging Cerberus casually. "I get it I get it, ice equals water equals ass kicking." He looked back to Zelda. "This one's for y—" The beast bodily pushed him away with a tendril that it hadn't had before, and stomped towards the new man. Extracting himself from the impression he had made in the wall, Dante, moved to intercept the creature.

"I ain't done with you yet, ugly," he shouted as he brought Cerberus around and hit the beast full in the face. This time it did reel. It wasn't used to this. Things it hit stayed down.

Its attention momentarily diverted, the new man turned to the wall behind the beast and ran straight at it, his momentum carrying him up the wall a short way. As it gave out, he leapt back, soaring through the air to plant both feet on the beast's head, forcing it down and jumping off again before its tendril could find him.

This afforded Dante another attack, bringing Cerberus in an arc to land home on the back of the lowered head. Another tortured scream rent the air, and more tendrils appeared about the beast's black body.

"You like that?" Dante asked the writhing form, all the while landing blow after blow on the unprotected head. His barrage was cut short when the beast lunged forward, grasping Dante in both of its massive hands. It looked Dante squarely in the eyes, and Dante leaned in to headbutt the beast. It didn't flinch, and the Demon Hunter's vision went blurry. "Oww…"

The beast dropped him suddenly. It screamed louder this time, and was hit once again in the side by a burst of blue energy.

"Back, demon! By the Goddess' I banish thee!" Zelda's eyes narrowed and she pushed harder, the blue intensifying as it shot out from in between her hands. The beast staggered back from the force of the blast, barely managing to stand. Inch by inch, it was moving closer back to the swirling sand that it emerged from. In a last effort, two tentacles shot around the blast, going directly for the new man. Two blue glowing arrows made it stumble back the last bit, causing it to fall into the glow.

"Seal it!" ordered the Drifter before the beast had completely vanished. "Remove the Sands and you remove the link!"

Zelda concentrated, and her magic changed color, now a mixture of hues. The stream of energy broke off to become a bubble that surrounded the glow. It contracted, forcing the Sands into a tighter and tighter space until nothing remained.

None moved, save Zelda who lowered her arms and the Drifter to congratulate her. "Well done, Princess! Well done indeed. I had forgotten just how much power is exhibited by the Seventh." He noticed that the man from the Sands, black hair disheveled and bleeding from the leg, was watching them warily, now that the beast was gone. "Malku," he said, moving over to him. The man eyed him up as he approached.

"Amelnakru?"

The Drifter shook his head and held up his hands in a show of peace. "Salamu."

"Just what did you do, Princess, if I may be so bold to ask?" inquired Drizzt.

"I am the Seventh Sage, good ranger, a…culmination of the other six, for lack of a better word. Forest, Fire, Water, Shadow, Spirit, and Light. Each one holds watch over their realm, and indeed are a very part of it." She pushed a lock of hair behind her pointed ear. "As the Seventh, I have all the powers that are granted to each of the others. I called forth not water itself, but the very essence of water." She smiled at him. "Works just as well and a great deal less messy."

The man looked around, not recognizing anything. "Adannu?" he asked the Drifter.

The Drifter put his head to one side. "Adannuma asru," he said. A brief moment of confusion crossed the man's face. Then his eyes got wide with understanding. "Nergal?" The Drifter nodded. "Mudu?" he asked, pointing at the Drifter.

The Drifter chuckled. "Dahaka kunukkum Sarratum. Kasadu eridu, salamu esharra?"

The man considered the question before nodding his head. "Ana Harrani Sa Alaktasa La Tarat."

"I helped, too," pouted Dante, brushing the dust off his coat.

"Indeed you did," said Zelda, turning to face him.

Dante beamed. "Finally, some recognit—"

"If ever I have need for demon bait again, rest assured I shall send you a summons."

8

Author's Note: Hurrah! Another update with the wait time drastically shortened! A cause for celebration, people, as I have successfully beaten the sould stealing demon that is World of Warcraft. No longer does it hold me in its potent sway.

But yeah, I'm back to writing majorly now, the only thing standing in the way of this story being my other stories. ::Dramatic and ominous sound to be inserted here:: So enjoy this, kiddies. The wait shouldn't be nearly as long as it has been in the past, but I do not know when the next chapter will be up.

As always, some sort of music served to help in the production of this chapter. If you completely missed the title, it's "Enter Sandman." If you need me to tell you why I chose this song, go sit in a corner and think about it. If you need me to tell you who the song is by, then go sit in the corner and continuously bang your head against the wall. : ) It was Metallica, damnit.


	20. Ch 18: Welcome Home

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Welcome Home

The water was cold; freezing, actually. But it had been a long winter and the fountain had finally thawed. Emi-run had missed dipping her feet into the water, and she was damned if she was going to miss it another day. The frigid water swirled around her feet and over her feet, in between her toes and numbing everything below her ankles. She smiled and enjoyed it.

Even at ninety years, she had found nothing that stood up to the simple pleasures that children so often find.

She pulled her feet out of the fountain as someone approached from behind. "My Queen." She turned and acknowledged the page, nodding for him to continue. "Your brother has returned." Her eyes lit up at this.

"Has he now? Wonderful!" She stood, only to find her feet still stiff from the cold. She smiled at the page, a guilty grin creeping on to her face. "Would you mind helping me to the throne room? I'm afraid the cold gets to my bones easier these days."

"Of course, My Queen." She leaned on him for support as they made their way, hobbling slowly, to the throne room.

8

Drizzt took in the décor of the throne room, and he had to admit, he was impressed. Opulent wasn't the word, nor was lavish. Grand was better suited, but still missed the mark. It was a throne room that spoke of the country: We are here, and here we stay. It spoke of tradition and goodly deeds, without making an attempt at covering the bad ones.

Honest was the word, thought Drizzt. This is an honest room, seemingly grand because of the rarity of such honesty.

The door which the group had been led through not long before swung open again, a page announcing the arrival of the Queen. "Her Royal Majesty, Queen of Alajra and the last of her line, Her Grace the Queen Em—" He was cut off as the Queen stepped behind him and boxed his ear.

"I've told you, time and time again, a simple 'Queen Emi-run' will do. Short and sweet, losing none of the meaning." She turned to the assembled group before her. "Welcome all. I offer hearth and home to those that seek it, and whatever I can for others. It is good to see you again, dear brother. Welcome home." She walked forward and stumbled. The Drifter caught her, waving away the pages that had rushed forward.

"The fountain, I presume?" he asked.

"Of course, silly. The winter is over and the ice thawed. Did you expect anything else?"

"I would be a fool to," answered the Drifter, keeping his arm out for support as she stood. "A matter, before we begin. Have you the necklace I requested before I left? We have need of it now, should we hope to get anywhere in the deliberations."

"Yes," said the Queen, motioning to an awaiting page that had been holding a box. He presented the box to be opened, which revealed a slightly tarnished bronze necklace, a small disc hanging from the bottom like a charm. "I must say, Ambassador Feld was less than happy to hand this over."

The Drifter took the necklace. "I expect he was. Let this be an opportunity for him to give employ to interpreters again." He turned to the Prince, who had been trying to discern the meaning of the conversation, to no success. He offered the necklace to the Prince, who gave it a wary look. "Qabu genii annu," the Drifter reassured him. Still wary, the Prince took the necklace and looped it over his head. "This should make things much easier."

"How so?" asked Cloud. The Prince started at that, surprise plain on his face.

"What's with Twitch here?" asked Dante.

The Prince started again, though much less than before, and hesitantly said, "I understood you, and I wasn't expecting it."

This time, everyone else started, save for the Drifter and the Queen.

"Wonderful," she said, clasping her hands together. "It works."

"If I may ask…?" intoned Drizzt, his lavender eyes fixed on the necklace.

"It's a necklace, made of bronze, nothing truly special in that regard," said Emi-run, "but it is the last remaining such translation device this country has. Wear it and you can understand as well as be understood. Makes diplomacy so much easier, let me be the first to tell you."

The Prince, growing more confident with the situation now, gave a slight bow to Emi-run. "I thank you." Emi-run just smiled at him.

"Not to be rude, Your Majesty," said Cloud, "but now that that is taken care of, might we discuss what we came here for?"

"Indeed we may," said the Drifter. "Before I left to gather you five, I had hoped to have an idea of which demons, if any, were orchestrating the movements of the others. Unfortunately, this eluded me, save for the name of Errtu." Drizzt's eyes grew hard at this. "Even with that name, I know not if he is a ringleader. Both this and from where the demons were primarily located escaped my grasp. My sources were close to pinning down a location, but I could waste no more time. Hopefully, we will have a destination now." He turned to his sister. "Has Kaze returned?"

"Ye—" began Emi-run, as Drizzt heard footsteps and turned toward the door behind them.

"Aye, I'm back Drifter," said a voice from the doorway, causing them all to turn.

Old wasn't the right word to describe the man, for that implies frailty. Aged was a better word. His face was tanned, with hard lines. He wore a knee-length cloak, the collar a spread of black and blue feathers, with simple traveler's leathers underneath. A sword was strapped diagonally across his back, the handle pointing down on his right side, the tip peeking above his left shoulder. "And I got yer information," he said, his voice edged with timbre.

He gave the others in the group a once over, his eyes resting longer on two of them. "And I c'n tell ye right now, ye ain't gonna like it."

8

"We've managed to find where the bastards'd been, ah…headquartered, I guess. Not the best word, seein' as how demons respond to authority, but they have been pourin' out from one spot in particular. World called…well, it's called nuthin', by way of no one livin' there." Kaze took a pull from his mug before putting sharply down again, spilling some of the drink. He had recommended a different setting, preferably something with seats, and the group had been relocated to a council room, not too far from the throne room. He had also requested drink for the assembled. "The grease that lets the wheels turn smooth," he had said.

"What do you mean, nobody lives there?" asked the Prince. "Surely, even if the region is remote—"

"I bloody well mean that nobody lives there," interrupted Kaze. "Not a soul. On the entire damn world. Just yer flora and fauna, but nothin' intelligent. From what I've seen, they've had quite some time settin' the place up, too. Bastards got smart. No one lives there—"

"—no one to warn us," finished Drizzt, the cold realization creeping over him. "Just how well prepared are they?" he asked.

Kaze took another swig. "Prepared enough that you might want te rethink this little coup ye got goin', Drifter."

The Drifter shook his head. "No. If we can quell this before it gets too far gone, then the worlds will be that much better off. You know as well as I do that we don't want to get too many people involved."

"Thing is," interjected Kaze, pointing a finger at the Drifter, "it already is too far gone."

Dante, who had been trying to bring to attention that his mug was empty (to no avail), gave up and asked, "So at what point in all this do we get to fight something?" Cloud cast him a sidelong glance. "Don't gimme that look, Spike Head, I know you're thinking the same damn thing."

The Drifter seemed to have lost some of his starch with the news. "I fear, Dante, that you shall get your chance sooner than I had hoped."

"Kick ass."

Link sat across from him, eyes going from person to person, his face hard but not grim. The fairies hovered close.

"If you have the location, then I would assume it would be a simple thing to find out just who—what—is at the top of this," said Cloud, yet again ignoring Dante.

Kaze smiled, but it held no warmth. "Aye, that I did. This be the part that some o' ye ain't gonna be likin'." He took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, only adding to the tension. "I'm sure that one o' ye's be knowin' the balor Errtu?"

Drizzt sat a bit straighter in his chair. "I'm knowing it too well, Kaze."

Kaze nodded sagely. "I thought ye might. It's been confirmed that he's one o' the baddies at the bottom of this whole mess."

"I have no doubt that Errtu poses a threat, but he has been beaten before. Twice by me and my companions. What concerns me more is how he has managed to escape from the nether planes."

Again, Kaze nodded. "Ye've got a good head on those shoulders, lad. Indeed Errtu was banished after ye bested him, fer a hundred years from the material plane." He leaned in closer. "Unless summoned again."

Drizzt acceded the point. "True, but how could he possibly have been summoned from a world where he doesn't exist? Even if he tore his way into the hells of another world, his name would have a hard time indeed leaking to the material plane."

"Aye," said Kaze, his tone grave. "But who would be knowin' his name? One o' the demons he was in cahoots with, that's who."

Link wrinkled his brow in confusion along with the Prince who asked, "Demons can summon other demons?"

Kaze shrugged. "I ain't puttin' it outa the realm o' possibility, but this weren't quite the case here. Quite. For it was the demon that summoned your pal Errtu, but not as a demon. As a human."

This had every brow furrowed in confused thought. All but one.

Link's knuckles had whitened where he gripped the table, and his eyes burned as he stared into nothing.

"I told ye ye weren't gonna like it," said Kaze.

8

Author's Note: Well what'd'ya know...I'm not dead. Work's been Hell and my social life just got an ass load more interesting, but believe it or not, I was working on this most of the time. Just not this chapter. This one kinda came outa nowhere for me, but, hey, I like the end result. Hooray cliffhanging revelations!!1

Like always, some lucky artist contributed to the feel of this chappy, so let's welcome back our good friends in Apocalyptica, with their rendition of Metallica's "Welcome Home (Sanitarium)."

And though I say it every time, I'll try my damndest to get the next chapter up ASAP.

And a warning! yay warnings. In a few chapters, the rating will most definitely be bumped up to M. If ya don't have this story marked, then remember that so you can still find it.

I love you guys.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sammich that I must consume...


	21. Ch 19: Prelude

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Prelude

Weary from the day's events, Zelda let the dress fall from her shoulders. One of her hand maidens helped her step out of it and took it away, while another took away her undergarments after she took them off. Naked, she stepped into the bath.

The hot water enveloped her, steam rising from the surface and wreathing her head in the comforting warmth. It seeped into her, easing some of the tension that had settled into her muscles, but not enough, and not nearly all of it.

Demons.

Damn damn damn. The forces of evil were nothing new to the Princess, but…all the combined forces of hell…s. It took seven years and the combined powers of the seven sages, with both the Triforces of Wisdom and Courage to defeat Ganon.

Just how were they supposed to deal with hundreds of demons, thousands even, many just as powerful as the dread Gerudo Lord? The people of Hyrule were not bred for war of any sort; they were a peaceful people by nature and practice. Yes, the Hyrule Royal Guard was a militaristic organization, and every soldier would protect the land they loved with their very lives, but that was just it. Their hearts were in the right place, but they were not a combative people, and would eventually succumb to a continued onslaught.

She wrapped her arms around herself, a deep cold coming over her despite the heat of the bath. She fervently hoped that Link and the others could put an end to this before it began. She just as quickly scolded herself for doubting the hero and the rest of the group. The Drifter seemed to know what he was about, not acting 'til he had time to assess the situation, but it was in his eyes that she had seen hope. They were old eyes, and hardened. One didn't become an old adventurer by rushing into things ill prepared.

"Wh…Where are we?"

The voice jerked Zelda out of her contemplations. The voice was female, but all her handmaidens had gone. Then who…? She had the foresight to cover herself as best she could with her hands right before the owner of the voice fell into the bath with her. From where, Zelda couldn't discern, but there were more important things at the moment.

"Who are you!?" the Princess demanded, affronted, and rightly so.

The speaker stood, her red hair heavy with water, and looked around searchingly. "Cadderly?"

Zelda's irritation was rising. "I asked who you—" she started, but was cut off when a second body fell into the bath.

"—there soon…Oh, blas—" it said, from its time of appearance to when it hit the water, the voice identifying it as male. It floundered for a second before standing, sputtering as it did. "But whe—wha—was supposed to be a castle…Danica, I don't…Danica. Danica!" He wore a wide brimmed hat that had become waterlogged, and now the edges hung so low that he couldn't see anything. The woman with the red hair, presumably Danica, put her hands on the mans shoulders, steadying him.

"Easy, love, I'm here." She raised the brim of his hat, and the mans face was awash in relief.

"Oh, thank goodness! I had thought for sure that we'd been separated when the spell went wrong. I don't understand it myself, we were supposed to wind up in the castle..."

Zelda cleared her throat. The two mystery people looked, noticing her for the first time. "Good. Now that I have your attention, might you be so good as to tell me why, exactly, you are in my bath?"

The man looked perplexed for a moment. "Bath? I don't—oh…" His face turned several shades of red when he realized that she was indeed dressed as one would be for the bath. Danica just as quickly lowered the brim of his hat again, blocking his view.

"I do apologize, ma'am," she said, lowering her head before turning both her and the man around. "If you would like to clothe yourself, we would gladly explain our presence and make amends."

"Indeed," her companion chimed in, his voice somewhat muffled from the hat brim hanging around his face.

Zelda rose, keeping a reign on her temper. "Very well. I would appreciate that you refrain from moving."

"Yes ma'am."

Zelda quickly gathered the night gown that had been prepared for her. While not quite the apparel that she would deal with company in, it would have to do. "Alright," she said, clothed once more, "please explain yourselves."

The two companions turned around slowly. "I am Cadderly Bonaduce, your Ladyship," he said, sweeping off his sodden hat and bowing, "Chosen of Deneir, and this is my wife, Danica Maupoissant." He stood again, looking rather sheepish. "I, er, fear that a traveling spell of mine went, ah, awry, you might say…"

"It went awry," Danica said, a slight grin tugging at her mouth. "We do apologize, Miss."

"I heard you mention a castle, Mr. Bonaduce. Just where were you trying to go?"

"Ahm…to be honest, I don't know where we are, so you may not have even heard of it, but someplace called, er, Hyrule." He looked at her, hope plain in his eyes.

"I've heard of it," said Zelda, wanting to know more, and still unsure about the intentions of the two. "I cannot say from where, but it sounds familiar. What was your business there?"

"Well, we really shouldn't say, it was to meet someone, really, nothing extraordinary…"

"But surely you can tell me who," said Zelda, smiling slightly. "After all, you did interrupt my bath."

Cadderly nodded begrudgingly. "This is true…"

"We were seeking a girl named Zelda," said Danica, edging in front of her husband. "We came with both a warning and a proposition for her, both of which are quite urgent. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but could you please tell us where we are, so that we might continue on our way?"

Zelda smiled in spite of her self. "You are in Hyrule, Danica Maupoissant, and I am Princess Zelda."

The silence that followed was equal parts shock and embarrassment. "Er…" said Cadderly after a while. "I suppose that the spell did indeed work, then…er," he trailed off, looking at Zelda once more, but not quite being able to meet her gaze.

"My Lady," said Danica, bowing, recovering much better than her husband. "We apologize most profusely for this unannounced and indecent intrusion." She rose, and looked the Princess in the eye. "Unfortunately, what we told you about the warning was true, as was the urgency."

Zelda nodded. "Very well. Come, we will speak in my chambers." She turned to go through the only door in the room. "Ah," she said, remembering the state of the two. "I almost forgot. A quick drying spell would be in or—"

Cadderly had a finger raised, and steam was emanating from both he and Danica. "One step ahead of you, My Lady."

Zelda motioned to two of the high-backed chairs in the chamber, and she sat herself in a third facing the two. "Now," she said, sitting straight and putting on as regal an appearance as one could while wearing a night gown, "what is this warning?"

Cadderly coughed nervously. "You wouldn't happen to be familiar with _Tuanta Quiro Miancay_, My Lady? The Most Fatal Horror? The Chaos Curse?" Zelda gave a slow shake of her head. "Ah. Well, that is fortunate that you have never had to deal with it before. Unfortunately, I fear that your ignorance may not continue." He took a breath. "Tuanta Quiro Miancay itself is a prelude to utter chaos, as its other name implies. It is a magical concoction that permeates the very air in which it is placed, like an invisible mist. Every single mind that it comes into contact with is affected, and the only sure way to guarantee immunity…" he trailed off, his face showing the briefest flash of inner pain.

"Is to be the one that leases the potion," finished Danica.

Zelda's face was grave. "And just what effect does the potion have?"

"The potion infects the mind," explained Cadderly, "releasing all inhibitions, leaving the victim susceptible to any idea. Even if an idea doesn't seem good, it won't seem wrong. But the true cruelty of the potion is that along with removing inhibitions, it plants a suggestion in the mind."

"A suggestion?"

Cadderly nodded. "Yes. The suggestion of the victims greatest desire."

"I have come under the sway of the Chaos Curse before," said Danica. "At the time, I was absorbed in my training of the arts martial, specifically a technique that would have allowed me to split a great stone slab with my just my head." She paused, and raised a hand to her forehead. "I almost killed myself, utterly convinced that the next blow would be the one to shatter it."

Zelda frowned. "I can see the threat posed by this…this Chaos Curse, but," she looked up at Cadderly, "how do you know that my kingdom is in danger from it?"

"Truth be told, I don't," said Cadderly.

"Then why—"

"However," he said, raising a hand, "I do know that I was guided here for a reason. I had just received this information from an imp that had stolen into my home. I was without any clue as to what to do when my god revealed to me the existence of your world and yourself. Which brings me to my proposition." Zelda raised an eyebrow. "I do not know for certain whether or not you and your kingdom are being targeted, but I do know that if we work together, we may just be able to head off the release of this accursed potion."

"And how do you know I will be of any help, Cadderly Bonaduce? You admitted just now that my existence was a mystery to you until just recently."

Cadderly smiled. "Because you remind me of myself. I can not only feel the power within you, but an understanding of that power, going far beyond what any wizard or mage could hope to comprehend. I feel I make a safe assumption in saying that you are a Chosen; as close to your god or goddess as you can be. As am I."

It was Zelda's turn to smile. "I wondered when you'd get around to mentioning that."

"Oh?"

"You were not the only one that noticed the similarity. Indeed I am a Chosen, as you call it. I am the holder of the Triforce of Wisdom, and closest to the goddess Nayru. Very well, Cadderly Bonaduce," Zelda said, standing. "I will work with you to hopefully avoid the release of this Chaos Curse." She held out her hand.

Cadderly stood and took it within his own. "This looks to be the start of—" he started when Zelda looked around suddenly.

"Impa?" she asked out loud, to the confused looks of Cadderly and Danica.

"Is everything alrigh—" he was cut off again when Zelda held up a hand, her brow furrowed with concentration.

Her eyes shot open wide. "No…"

A knight burst through the door at that moment. "Princess! Ka—"

"Kakariko is under attack!" the Princess finished for him, and ran past him. Cadderly and Danica followed, leaving one very confused and even more worried knight in her chamber.

He turned to follow the hastily retreating monarch when he stole a glance out the window, in the direction of Kakariko Village. He had a sickening feeling that the Princess would be too late, as he watched even more demons pour from the sky.

8

Author's Note: Two chapters in under 24 hours?! Haxx!!1one Yeah, so this is the chapter that was supposed to be uploaded, last time, but I was only half done. Finally got around to finishing the last half after I updated the last chappy. yay.

The song used this time is remix, and an ocremix no less! Some of Koji Kondo's original works for OoT were used by Zas to create the wonderfully orchestrated piece "Prelude."

So here's the game plan. Lots o' stuff gonna be answered next chap, and then the rating rises, so beware all you impressionable youngsters.

And with that, I'm gonna go work on the next chapter.


	22. Ch 20: Beyond Time

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

Beyond Time

"I am noticing a disturbing lack of things to do," said Tatl, mirroring the opinion of Link. They had at least another day before the rest of Kaze's informants came in, and were using this time to rest.

But sitting around and contemplating upcoming hardships would only lead to darkened looks and cryptic words that sounded much more foreboding than they had any reason to be. Best to be out enjoying life, reminding you of what exactly it was you were fighting for. Only…there is only so much fun to be had when everyone else around you is all gloom and doom.

"I know!" exclaimed Navi. "Where's the one place, especially in a castle, that you can be sure to find happy people?"

Link and Tatl mulled this over for about ten seconds before coming to the same realization. Had it not been for the size difference, the three would have joined hands and walked, but the feeling was there, nonetheless.

8

"Is, or was?" asked Drizzt, one white eyebrow raised slightly in question.

"Both," answered the Drifter. He knew that most of the group had questions, knew that he had explained things just enough so that they would come along. Drizzt had pulled the Drifter aside, wondering about his cryptic statement about the sentient sword he carried. Something about the way the Drifter had said it, "My mother," the simple sincerity in the statement allowed the ranger to accept it. But some things just couldn't be left unsaid, or unasked.

"The woman that was my mother is dead," he explained, "but her soul lives on in the sword."

"How did this come to be?" asked Drizzt. "I've never known or heard of a person's soul being transposed to another object, permanently at any rate. Sentient swords I've known have been given a form of life all there own. Perverse and twisted in cases, but it is an original life all their own."

"Her name was Namir," said the Drifter, letting out a breathy chuckle, as if he were laughing in spite of something, "and she was the greatest swordswoman of her time. She dedicated her life to the blade, and when it came time for her body to die, she refused."

Drizzt raised his other eyebrow in perplexity. "Refused? How does one refuse death?"

"There are several ways," said the Drifter, a twinge of something—disgust maybe—crept into the edges of his voice. "I neither can nor will tell you how. I will tell you that not all are voluntary, and all but one,"—his voice grew harder, and his breathing heavier—"a single state of immortality, is worth it." He stopped, collected himself, and looked deep into Drizzt's lavender eyes. "I beseech you, Drizzt Do'Urden, to halt your inquiries here, for the sake of my mother and of myself." He stood up, nodded at Drizzt, and walked away.

The drow was left with that, a confirmation of a mystery. He shook his head slowly, marveling at the enigma that was the Drifter. He felt no malice from the man, no burning hatred, seemingly no motive for anything he did. Drizzt decided he would trust the man, even if only for now. He reached into the folds of his cloak, and withdrew the onyx statuette of his best and most trusted friend.

"Come to me, old friend," he murmured. Mist began to rise from the statuette, forming and condensing until Guenwhyvar stepped out and nuzzled affectionately against Drizzt. "So," intoned the ranger, "what do you think, Guen? Is the Drifter a man to be trusted? A man that carries his own mother's soul as a weapon? A man we know next to nothing about?" He looked into the great panther's eyes, and found mirrored there his own face; the face that had earned him distrust and even hatred from most everyone he met. Assumptions and misconceptions had followed the drow ever since he ventured from the Underdark.

He smiled. "I find the irony of my distrust bitter, Guen. The man has given us no reason to."

Guenwhyvar purred, and Drizzt stroked along her back, all thoughts of suspicion and distrust put to the side, if not abolished all together.

8

"One of the unbreakable rules of the universe," whispered Navi. "Any castle worth calling a castle will have a fairly large, good natured, grandmotherly woman in charge of the kitchens."

Such was the case with Emi-run's castle. Appropriately named, Mrs. Goodbody was a middle-aged woman with a kindly face, but filled with enough vim and vinegar to lift an entire pig onto the butcher block. Link and the fairies had caught her jointing the poor beast when they entered the kitchens, but their reservations were immediately assuaged when she put a heaping platter of fresh baked cookies in front of them.

"You're with those grim lookin' fellows that Master Drifter brought in, then?"

"Yes," said Tatl. "Said he needed some help saving the world and all, so, of course, he turns to us."

Mrs. Goodbody smiled. She liked the young man and his two little friends. He had the glimmer in his eye of one that truly enjoyed life for all that it was, and she knew that if she could see the fairy's eyes, then they too would hold that same glimmer. "I'm sure he made the right choice, Dearie." She bustled over to one of the large ovens lining the wall. "How do more cookies sound?"

8

The Prince of Persia had found an out of the way balcony over looking the inner courtyard. He sat on the edge of the balustrade, feet dangling and his head propped in his hands, which is how the Drifter found him.

"Good day, King—"

The Prince cut him off before he could finish. "I am no king," he said. "I never was and never will be suited for rule. Prince will suffice."

The Drifter bowed slightly. "Very well, Prince. I merely wish to inquire as to how you are faring."

The Prince turned to look at him. "How I'm faring?" He laughed ruefully. "I find a piece of my past that shouldn't exist anymore, get killed by something not of my world, am brought back to life just to be chased by a nightmare that should also not exist, and find myself now caught up in a struggle of men and demons in worlds I never before knew, let alone had heard of." He smiled wrily. "Truth be told, I'm faring better than I ever did at court."

The Drifter couldn't help but smile at that. "I do hope my friend didn't upset you too much."

"Nergal? No, Ama…ama—"

"Amadeus," the Drifter finished for him. "Amadeus Thines."

"Amadeus," repeated the Prince, rolling the name around in his mouth, committing it to memory. "No, he didn't upset me much. The crew of my ship, however…" he muttered darkly.

"He is Death, Prince. He did not kill a single one of your men. Rather, he ensured that their souls would not wander lost and confused."

"Acknowledged," said the Prince, realizing that he would get no where pursuing that tangent of conversation. "But, I must ask…why me?"

"Because of what you are, Prince."

"An ill fitting king?"

"A willful man skilled in the blade with a thirst for adventure." He turned to the wall, running a hand lightly over the worn stone. "I needed people like yourself; like Cloud, and Dante, and the rest. This war will not be won with soldiers blindly following orders. The demons will decimate ranks of traditional armies, so we must finish it before it reaches that phase. I need free thinking individuals, that have something to fight for; something that drives them to think and react as men _and_ warriors, instead of just one or the other."

The Prince was silent at that, taking the compliment in stride and agreeing with the logic of the Drifter's plan. "I see no reason to distrust you as of yet, Drifter," he said after a while. "You promised me passage to a safe haven, and here I am. I will follow you, to a point. If you'd like me to be as you wish, free thinking and individual, then I will do some things my way. Is that acceptable?"

"Indeed it is, Prince," the Drifter bowed again, glad to have another confirmation of loyalty, however conditional it may be. "I thank you. You have been shown your chambers?" The Prince nodded. "Very well, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to—"

"One thing, Drifter." The Drifter paused, letting the Prince continue. "When I was running from the Dahaka in my own world, I ran to a sand portal that led me to you and the rest. Strange as that is, I can accept it given your explanation. What I don't understand is that I shouldn't have been able to access that portal." The Drifter cocked his head in confusion. The Prince went on. "When I left the Island the first time, that portal was blocked off by a pile of rubble, too large for one man to move alone. The Island itself is uninhabited, which makes me wonder what could possibly have moved it."

"The rubble was moved, allowing you access to the portal, which in turn brought you to me," the Drifter repeated.

"Yes."

"Was it moved to the side, or simply gone?"

"I believe it was gone. I'm not entirely sure. I didn't stop to look at the scenery; something was trying to erase my existence."

The Drifter rubbed his chin. "Hmm, let us hope…Pray excuse me, Prince, I really do have other things to see to."

"Very well," the Prince nodded. "I shall await your summons."

The Drifter nodded before turning and walking away.

8

"Your Majesty!" Mrs. Goodbody exclaimed, causing Link and the fairies to turn around. Queen Emi-run stood at the bottom of the short stairway, leaning against the banister for support.

"Hello, Mrs. Goodbody," she said, acknowledging the cook with a nod. "I trust these brave heroes haven't given you too much trouble I trust?"

"No more than heroes do, as you know."

"Ah," said the Queen, moving over to the table to join Link and the fairies, smiling all the while.

Then she saw the empty platter, a few crumbs dotting the otherwise barren surface.

Her eyes narrowed, and Link cowered as Navi grabbed Tatl and flew under Link's cap.

8

"Drifter."

The Drifter turned. "Yes, Cloud?"

Cloud was leaning against the wall, near the entrance of the stairway leading down to the kitchens. "Tifa," he said simply.

Letting out a barely perceptible sigh and turning around, the Drifter nodded. "I know where she is, and I am taking you there."

"How?" asked Cloud. "How do you know she's there?"

"Kaze is not my only informant, though he is one of my best. It was easy to follow Tifa's trail—altogether too easy, to be honest."

Cloud nodded. "You fear they may want this confrontation."

"Yes." He looked into Cloud's slightly glowing eyes. "Stay with us, Cloud, and we shall help you rescue Tifa."

Cloud returned his gaze, neither man blinking nor looking away. Cloud reflected back on all his experiences, all the pain and suffering, the hardships and struggles, wanting to ask why the Drifter thought he couldn't do this on his own. But looking into his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to do it. And not only because the Drifter held the information, but because those same experiences that told him he could do it on his own were fraught with memories of those that had helped him. He had only recently come to the realization that he had done very little indeed on his own, and still he lapsed back into his former withdrawn self occasionally.

Which was when his friends and companions were there, as always, to pull him back out.

"All right," he said at length, turning to go, determined not to drag down the rest of the group. "Let me know when we move."

"I shall."

8

Two punches and a fresh plate of cookies later, relative peace once again held sway in the kitchen.

"So where is it you're from again?" asked Emi-run, biting into another cookie.

"The Grand Kingdom of Hyrule, fairest in all the lands!" exclaimed Tatl. "Not to pay any insult to yourself, Queenlier," she quickly added.

"Hmph," said Navi.

"None taken," said Emi-run, laughing a bit and spraying crumbs.

"Not to be disrespectful, Your Majesty," Navi said at length, "but you don't seem to be overly worried about this whole situation."

Emi-run looked surprised. "You think I should be, little Navi?"

"Well, yes. Demons are trying to take over the world after all. I don't know, you just seem to be…at ease. Almost too calm for all this."

The Queen laughed, her soft voice lilting, and without care. "It's because I know my brother, Little One, and I've heard tell of your exploits, Link," she said, shifting her gaze to the Hero. "I would be lying if I said I was unimpressed, just as I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit scared about this whole demon business. But, you are a Hero, Link, as is my brother. I know first hand of what can be done when Heroes band together and set their body and soul into something. And that, Navi, is why I am confident that in the end, this will all be something to tell around the fire to our grandchildren. Grandfairies…? Do you…?"

"Well," began Navi uncertainly, looking for a new direction to steer the conversation in.

"There comes a time…" began Tatl, grinning wickedly.

8

Farther down the stairs, Dante was propped up against the wall, out of the sun and trying to sleep. "Hey, Drifter," he said without looking up. "About my –"

"Your pay shall be adjusted appropriately to the duration of your employment," said the Drifter walking past him. "Along with any bonuses accrued for unforeseen circumstances."

"'Kay."

The Drifter continued on, to where the loud voices of his sister and a pair of fairies were emanating.

8

"Oh." It was all Emi-run really could say. There were just some things you didn't think about when you thought about fairies.

Well, _hadn't_ thought about.

"I never imagined," she said at length.

"Few people do," said Tatl.

"And do you always use the…?"

"Yes," said Tatl, at the same time Navi said "No."

"And the…" Emi-run hesitated.

"Always," assured Tatl, as the Drifter strode in through the door.

"Greetings, Link and—Sister, you look as though you've seen a ghost."

A myriad of emotions and thoughts were playing their way across Emi-run's face, making her expression difficult to read. "Long story," she said. "Suffice it to say, I'll never look at a rose the same way again." Her eyes widened a bit. "Nor a blade of grass, for that matter." She shook herself out of wherever her mind was and turned to her brother. "Never mind that. Have you talked to everybody? Addressed those things you spoke of?"

"Yes," answered the Drifter. "Everyone but Link."

Link turned at the mention of his name, and made extremely vague sounds around a large mouthful of cookie.

"There is nothing to discuss, really," Navi replied for him.

"No? No reassurance that—"

"Reassurance of what?" asked Navi. "Reassurance of reward, of victory? Ganondorf is back, and we're going to stop him. That's all there is to it. We shall persevere until we are victorious, and you can give us no reward that will equal to silencing Ganondorf and ensuring the safety of our loved ones."

The Drifter smiled approvingly. "Well said, Navi, well said indeed. The tales you told me in our short time together should have been enough, but…forgive a somewhat cynical man for doubting you three." He bowed slightly, not mockingly. "If only we all could be so virtuous."

Navi couldn't help but look at Tatl. Virtuous may have been stretching it.

"That being said, how do they measure up to you, Mrs. Goodbody?"

The stout cook smiled broadly. "They sure enough eat like heroes, and that's as good an account by my standards."

"Ah, but that's not bein' fair," said a voice from the doorway. "I c'n eat twice as much as that pup an' you'd still call me villain."

"'Cos a villain is what you are, Mr. Kaze, coming in here at all hours, demanding food, and praying on a poor woman's sensibilities."

The old man grinned. "Come now. 'Demand' is hardly the right word, and c'n I help meself if I'm lured in by yer feminine wiles?"

Mrs. Goodbody's gaze was no less stern, but a blush was steadily making its way up the expanse of her cleavage. "And that's exactly what I mean, you devil." Outside the door, Dante coughed.

The smile was suddenly gone from Kaze's face. "Seriously, marm, let us run away together, just the two of us. Ye know full well I c'n make ye happy."

The blush had picked up speed, and was now creeping up close to her ears. "You are the absolute worst, Mr. _Jarrett_," that brought a wince from Kaze, "the living end if I do say so myself." She crossed her arms in front of herself. "And I do."

"Now now, Kaze," said Emi-run. "If you steal Mrs. Goodbody away from me, I'll just have to hunt you down myself."

Kaze threw a hand up to his brow. "Alas, me brilliant plan has been foiled. Never ye fear," he said, turning his gaze once again to Mrs. Goodbody, "for ye are the love of me life, and I shall charm ye away yet."

The cook turned away, muttering something about dinner.

Chuckling to himself, Kaze turned away from the rest and addressed the Drifter. "Now, Drifter, if I may have a word with ye…" he gestured to the door on the far side of the room. The two men excused themselves.

"Queenie?"

"Yes, Tatl?"

"Well, she's _Mrs_. Goodbody, right?"

Emi-run smiled. "Yes, she is married, and quite happily so."

"So why…?"

The Queen laughed. "Don't worry, little friend, Kaze is not a home wrecker, merely an outrageous flirt with a penchant for mischief."

"Ah," said Tatl. After a while she asked, "Has he ever tried to romance you?"

Emi-run smiled, as if recalling something. "Yes, yes he did in fact. Once."

"Once? What stopped him?"

Emi-run smiled evilly. "There are few things a man will continue when his future generations are at stake."

"Oh." Said Tatl, not quite comprehending, then, "OH. Oh. _Oh_..."

8

"What is it, Kaze?" asked the Drifter once they were out of the kitchens.

"Well, while ye were off puttin' together this little band here, we got a…visitor, here at the castle."

"Don't play games ,Kaze, we may be beyond time as it is. What is it?"

"A…man," said Kaze, looking slightly uneasy. The Drifter waited. "Well, mostly a man. He's…dead."

"Dead?" repeated the Drifter, not understanding.

Then realization dawned.

"Yeah," said Kaze. "Dead. Like yerself."

8

Link listened to the banter between the fairies and the Queen. He himself was content to enjoy the absolutely fabulous cookies that Mrs. Goodbody kept turning out. Yes, Ganondorf was back, but there was nothing he could do about it right now, and he was damned if he was going to let the Gerudo Lord ruin his enjoyment of life.

Smiling to himself, Link selected a cookie and dipped it into a glass of milk, while Kakariko village burned.

8

Author's Note: Enough with the excuses, I'm just a lazy sum bitch. Direct all anger towards me, I deserve it, so as penitence, I offer my longest chapter yet. By a whole three and one half pages. Huzzah.

Musical inspiration once again takes form in Apocalyptica, this time with, wait for it..."Beyond Time." Go look them up now, it'll give you something to do between now and the next chapter. Which I'm already working on.

You all better thank my editor, known for now as Rekker, for he kicks me in the teeth daily whenever I don't write. More power to him.

And I know I've been spouting off this warning about the rating going up for a while now, but it finally shall in the next chapter. A very hard chapter for me to write, but it must be done nevertheless. You're all desensitized youth, so why am I worrying?


	23. Ch 21: This is the New Shit

KNIGHTS OF THE REALMS

This is the New Shit

Author's Note: Yes, my AN _before_ the story. I'm sure some of you thought my previous warnings about this chapter were a bit stretched, so...now you get to see. Truth be told, I apologize for writing this chapter, a little. Don't hate me. Oh, and in the event that this chapter gets the story banned from FanFiction, I intend to keep posting on other sites, MediaMiner and AdultFanFiction for starters. Just an FYI. That being said...are you motherfuckers ready? This is the new shit.

8

The first attack had been swift, unforeseen, and unforgiving. Almost a third of the village had fallen. Those that weren't outright killed were taken down the well, where the creatures had emerged.

The handful of guards remaining rallied the survivors and retreated, backing slowly up into the wide, corner area hemming themselves in with the guards at the front, a stone wall to the side, and tall solid oak fence on the other.

Tortured screams had echoed up out of the well, loud and chilling, playing on old, bone-deep fears that had not wholly died.

But then the screams had stopped.

The silence was worse. The screams had at least given a point of focus, something to be terrified of, but the silence…the darkness…They preyed on the mind, revealing nothing, giving rise to those nightmares that lurked at the base of the neck, the horrific imaginings that either paralyzed the brain with terror, or shut it down and let the body panic.

The darkness seemed to flow, to seep and envelope everything. It crept. Darker than black, it was more than the mere absence of light. It was perverse, a taint upon the world and the eye. It erased everything, making the village itself appear a void, and the light of the torches did little to keep it at bay.

But they were still able to see the well.

It was all that anyone could see, and so they watched, wary. It was either that or go mad.

So no one noticed the movement around their feet, the slow, calm movements of a hunter closing in on the kill. They didn't notice the new body in the group, believing and hoping they were safe in their cluster. So it was with eyes dawning with a terrified realization that a guard slowly looked to the side and noticed the claws encircling his head.

8

She felt the darkness before she saw it. For one so closely attuned to the realm of Shadow as she it was like a chilling embrace; comforting in its familiarity, yet coldly different. She immediately fled the small council she'd been attending on Death Mountain, making for the open air, for the ledge that would afford her a view of her village.

She couldn't see it.

The general visibility wasn't at fault; the night was clear and the moon full, casting its ghostly pallor on all below…except for Kakariko. Darkness, primal and terrifying, enveloped where the village should be.

By that time her counterpart in the realm of Fire had caught up to her, and saw as she did. Nary a second was lost as they both threw themselves down the mountain as fast as they could.

The proud Sheikah race may be all but extinct, but their blood ran strong and fierce in Impa, Sage of Shadow.

_May the Goddesses have mercy_, thought Darunia, Sage of Fire and Big Boss of the Gorons as he hurtled down the mountain after her. _For the wroth of an entire vengeful race is about to be set loose._

_8 _

She cowered. The walls did little to dampen the noises from outside. The screams. The shrieks. The roars. The ripping, the burning, the baying, the growling, the crunching, the laughter.

The laughter was the worst. The laughter told her that this was no coordinated military strike, no precise attack, no grim task that needed doing. The laughter said that whatever these demons were, they were slaughtering because they enjoyed it, and for no other reason.

She had been inside, putting the cuccoos down for the night when everything had happened. She had been too scared to go join the ranks of survivors outside, and for that she was grateful. A thud on the other side of the wall made her pull more tightly into herself, and she stifled a scream. If she stayed quiet, she would make it out ali—

_CRASH!!!_

The window behind her exploded in, and she shrieked. There being no sounds of movement for several seconds, fear caused her to peek around the bed she was behind.

A body had been hurled through the window, on the end of an overly large spear. It had pierced his stomach pinned him to the wall. She recognized him as Mutoh, the head carpenter. A spasm wracked his body, and blood spilled from his mouth before he weakly lifted his head. _He was still alive! _That realization shook her, terrified for herself and for Mutoh, as she realized that whatever had thrown that spear was coming through the hole where the window had been.

8

The demon was ape-like in build, with sharpened claws and a lions head and mane. It snarled viciously as it advanced once again upon the four in the corner. Ichiro, Sabooro, and Jiro—three brothers—had their backs to the wall where two children lay sobbing silently, terror having robbed them of even the ability to scream. The brothers wielded scaffolding poles and other carpenters tools with efficiency, but they knew they were doing very little indeed to stay the beast. It was playing with them.

The demon leapt! All three brothers raised their makeshift weapons in what they knew to be their final attempt, when a black thunderbolt hit the demon in mid air, driving it to the side and into the ground. The brothers were astonished—even more so when the thunderbolt turned out to be Impa!

The guardian of Kakariko withdrew a short tanto blade and—not giving the demon time to react—stabbed it in the back twice before springing off. The demon, angered at having been denied its kill, turned its attention to Impa. It swung with its right, but its claws raked only air as the Sheikah ducked and spun, stabbing the blade above the demons groin and then jerking it up under the ribs. It gasped at the sudden pain, not used to prey that truly fought back, but Impa was already moving again. Keeping low, she plunged the short blade into its lower back, before slashing the back of its legs, hamstringing it. As the beast fell, she brought the blade up and plunged it deep into the cat-like face, hastening its meeting with the hard packed ground, where it landed with a crunch.

"Run!" she ordered the brothers before rushing around the corner. Fear and awe at what they had witnessed momentarily stunned them before they picked up the children and ran for the fields of Hyrule.

The Shadow Sage had rounded the corner, intending to throw herself at the first demon she saw, and…Goddesses help them all.

Chaos reigned. People screamed, buildings were broken and burning, but she saw none of it. She saw the only area of calm, right in front of the well.

The windmill was ablaze, its flaming arms silhouetting the well and the man in front of it. Him. The King of Thieves. The Gerudo Prince. The holder of the Triforce of Power.

Ganondorf.

His back was too her, yet he turned now, that chillingly familiar grin on his face.

"Impa…" he said, drawing her name out like a revolting caress. "I would be—"

She charged. Her village was burning, her people being slaughtered—she had no time for words.

She leapt, knee thrust forward towards his smug face. Ganondorf easily caught the knee in one large hand, and she used that leverage to bring her other leg around in a sweeping kick. He blocked that too, and she rebounded off him. Landing deftly, she looked up to see him charging. Impa side-stepped the charge and aimed a kick at the back of his leg, but he spun and grabbed at the end of his swirling cape, using the thick material to catch the blade that she had thrust. He wrenched the tanto free of her grasp and caught her a backhanded blow across the face. She fell to the side, moving with the blow and landing in a roll.

"Indeed, this a better greeting than I had anticipated!" Ganondorf's yellow eyes gleamed with amusement at her failed attempt. "I had thought that you might send off for the green whelp before giving us time to reacquaint ourselves."

Impa responded with another leap, this time releasing a flurry of small shuriken. The gerudo simply waved his hand in front of him and the shuriken fell before they reached him, but in the second that his hand had passed between his face and Impa, she had disappeared, as if he had erased her with the motion.

She was a Sage, an earthly conduit for power of one of the realms. She and those that came before her in tune with the realm of Shadow came to rely on misdirection and deceit, slight of hand and camouflage. Camouflage itself is a bit of a misdirection, as wiping yourself entirely from the visible spectrum could be considered something more.

She hit him in the back of the leg, forcing him down to one knee. Vaulting over him as he swung behind him, landed a blow to his brow, missing his face by centimeters. Ganondorf turned again and swung, the swirling of the smoke from the burning village the only indication of where she was. Impa ducked under another wide swing from his left and raced forward to run up the front of his body, kicking him under the chin. She flipped back, high into the air, and craned her neck to see how badly she had hurt him…and saw. Not at all. She saw also that the last swing had been a feint; the real aim had been to draw back his other arm where it had begun gathering dark energy. She realized, too, that she was too late to change her fall direction. She hastily began to bring her arms about in the movements that would allow her to vanish to a short distance away…too slow.

The punch, loaded with massive magical and kinetic energy, hit Impa above the small of her back. Her eyes widened in pain, and she heard bones snap. She landed face down some distance away, the force of the punch breaking her focus and forcing her back into the visibility. Still reeling with pain, she tried to raise herself. Her head was but six inches raised before she heaved blood onto the ground. She raised her gaze to meet Ganondorf's own, but then he vani—

Her vision filled with the inside of his palm, and the dark magic gathered there. The magic impacted on her face and would have forced her violently back but for his grip, tight and unrelenting on her skull. He stood, and a spasm wracked her body before going limp. He let her drop, and she crumpled to the ground.

She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. Her body ached at the idea of movement. Still, she managed to open her eyes. She wished she hadn't.

The slaughter continued. Ganondorf still stood, and her people still died. She had done nothing. The Gerudo Prince's leering countenance appeared over her, and his eyes danced with mirth as he saw her broken and bloody face.

"I had intended to erase you Sages as soon as possible, Impa. But, you have surprised me, to say the least. I do believe I have a bruise," he said, gently touching the area below the gem on his forehead, where she had landed the invisible kick. "For that, dear Impa, I shall reward you." He raised a hand, and two figures appeared at his side. They floated above the ground, their robes hanging loosely off them. They were almost entirely concealed by those robes, save for the heads. Octoroks, thought Impa at first. But no, the tentacled faces were more malicious that an octorok could ever be.

"Rest assured, dear, dear Impa, that the Sheikah line ends here." His evil grin widened, and the two tentacled beings advanced.

Impa lent her voice to the others of Kakariko, screaming in pain and terror.

8

Darunia had been seconds behind Impa when she tore through the gates into Kakariko, but did not immediately follow. The Sheikah's mind had zeroed in on the first demon she had seen and gone for it. Darunia, still furious but not so vengefully driven, had heard the children from the guard house. He rushed over and wrenched the door and part of the frame out of the wall in his haste to get in, but then he faltered, his mind almost incapable of taking in what he saw.

The demon was sized bigger than a man; around eight feet tall and well muscled. Its skin was comprised of hard, orange scales that often came to a point and even extended to full spines on its back and the backs of its forearms. A tail similar to a dodongo's protruded form the base of its spine, and its face…Darunia couldn't see its face.

The demon had cornered a family that had hidden in the guard house, to no avail. The father lay in the corner in a pool of blood, belly down but with his head turned all the way back. His face had been clawed and ripped off, and was now being worn as a mask on the demon, held in place by the sharp scales. The children, two girls, were holding each other tightly, as they sat rooted in horror. They watched as the demon thrust repeatedly into their mother's lifeless corpse. Blood seeped from between her legs and out of her mouth, her body not capable of dealing with the hard, sharp, and overly large invader. It had not been a quick death.

Darunia's eyes blazed. A guttural roar tore from his throat and, before the demon could even turn his head to look, his fist slammed into the side of its head. The demon was thrown into the wall, lodging it half in and half out of the building. "Run, children!" commanded Darunia, turning to face them. Their gaze shifted from the dazed demon to Darunia, and then past him. He turned and saw the other demon, almost identical to the first, that had been on the other side of the room, out of his sight until now. Darunia squared his shoulders and dug his feet in, using himself to block the children and give them a passage to the door. "Don't worry, little sisters, and leave him to me. Now go, up the mountain path. Help is coming!"

He waited until he heard the girl's footsteps outside before charging the demon. It leapt at him, small claws unsheathing themselves from its fingers. Darunia caught it in mid-air, and would have been bowled over had he not dug his feet in and used the momentum to spin the creature around and hurl it through the wall, sending it sailing over another house. It landed in front of three scared carpenters, who only hesitated a second before guiding the two children they had around it and continued heading for the fields.

The goron turned his attention towards the first demon, which had managed to tear itself free of the wall. The demon roared, but Darunia simply engulfed its face—its actual face, the poor fathers having fallen off—in one massive hand, and grabbed its groin with the other. Lifting the offending creature over his head, he threw it out the hole made by its twin. He walked out, and the demons picked themselves up. They stood side by side and faced him, both roaring, spines bristling, when their backs and arms burst into flame. Coming from their spines, Darunia noted. But didn't care.

Despite the brutality he had just witnessed, despite the continuing screams around him, Darunia couldn't help but grin at the two flaming demons.

"Boys, do you have _any_ idea who I am?"

8

_Get out get out get out!_

_But we are already here. It would be a shame to have to leave now._

_No. LEAVE. ZELDA!_

_There is no Zelda. Nobody except us._

_NO! That's not possible! GET OUT!_

_We cannot leave. It's much too nice here. We think we'll stay._

_Nonononono! I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here! You shouldn't be here!_

_But we are here. You didn't stop us. You practically invited us in._

_This isn't happening. I don't want to be here. No more fighting. No more killing. No more death. No more sadness._

_Then what _do_ you want?_

_You to leave. The dead to come back. Happiness. Love. Laughter._

_So let us entertain you._

_8 _

It was tall and gangly, its arms and legs more than twice the proportionate length to its body. Covered in short, gray, spiky hair, it was altogether a terrifying creature, even without the face. It grinned; lips pulled back, revealing rows of long and narrow—and above all sharp—teeth. Its eyes were widened slightly, and the pupils were so dilated as to be almost nonexistent.

"Pretty…" it crooned in a high pitched, gravelly voice, advancing slowly on the cowering woman.

"Y-you leave her a…alone." Mutoh was feebly pulling at the spear in his stomach, made slippery with his own blood.

The demon rounded on the carpenter. "Shh! Pretty Lady was talking! You mustn't talk when the Pretty Lady does!"

"Miss," said Mutoh, his eyes pleading, and resigned. "Run."

It was the last thing he ever said.

She shut her eyes and covered her ears, trying to block the screams and gurgles. But she didn't' run. She couldn't. She was too afraid.

"Pretty Lady…" the demon crooned again in a sing-song. It moved towards her again, and she saw Mutoh, his own arm protruding out of his mouth, his throat engorged.

She began to cry, silent sobs wracking her body.

"Don't cry, Pretty Lady! I just want to play!" It said as it reached her.

"Please…" she said weakly, not knowing what else to do. She closed her eyes when she felt it tug at her dress, but the tears till flowed.

"We're just going to have fun, Pretty Lady!" It said, ripping the bottom half of the dress off, and similarly disposing of her undergarments. It's arousal rose, gnarly and veined. "Lots and lots of fun!"

8

The two fiery demons circled and leapt at Darunia, coming from both sides. Turning to one, he knocked it out of the air as the other landed on his back. Before it could get its claws in, he curled in upon himself and rolled it flat beneath him, the gorons body now akin to a boulder.

He uncurled but didn't move from atop the demon as the other one charged. Bringing both arms up, their hands met and they grappled, both trying to throw the other off balance. The matter was moot, though, as the demon still under Darunia heaved and sent him tumbling back. The one he had grappled with was on him in a flash, fists clenched and sharp knuckles poised for striking. Once, twice, thrice! The demon hit him again and again, unrelenting desire to see him dead. It did, however, stop briefly to gloat, leaning forward and roaring in his face.

That was when Darunia smiled, and two granite-like fists came together with its head between them.

He pushed the demon off and curled forward to get up, allowing the other one to once again latch on to his back, arms looped under his neck, trying to choke him. The goron reached back with his massive arms and got a two handed grip around the creatures neck, heedless of the searing fire that coursed along its body. Both pulled, but the demon relented first, and Darunia flung him over head, slamming it to the ground by its neck.

Again, his victory over one was stemmed by the presence of the other. It came at him, no longer going for strength to win, but quickness. It kicked and punched, always in motion. Darunia managed to block most of the blows, and those that he couldn't he turned so that they were only glancing. But then the other one joined, both fiery beings attacking quickly, leaving him no room to counter.

Darunia, however, didn't need any.

He stopped blocking and took the blows they landed, soaking the damage. With no finesse, and no subtlety, he reached out and grabbed both demons by the spines lining the backs of their necks. To their great and obvious surprise, the fire that had limned their bodies suddenly died, smoke and steam replacing it.

"_Now_ you understand," said Darunia, bringing both of their faces together with a sickening _crunch!_

Those two out of the fight, he turned around and saw Impa. Saw what she was doing. Saw the two tentacled beings behind her.

He ran, knowing what he had to do, but a wall of flame, high and hot, sprung up before him. He turned and saw the two demons pulling themselves off the ground, both snarling and their bodies burning brighter than before.

"There's no time for this!" roared Darunia, hurling himself headlong into the fiery duo. He ducked under ones wild swing and landed a vicious uppercut to its chin, throwing its head back. The other came from the side and clawed at his face, gouging his cheek and leaving a path of bare skin in his beard. Darunia grunted against the pain and swept the demons legs out from under it with one massive arm. It landed on its face and Darunia brought both arms up and down in a brutal overhead slam on its back, snapping both its quills and its spine. It writhed spasmodically as its partner once again tried to pull itself off of the ground.

But Darunia wasn't having any of that. He stomped over to the creature and lifted it bodily up by its neck. Clawed hands lashed ineffectively at the goron's great arm. His other hand came from underneath and grabbed the demon by the loins, squeezing hard. The demon screeched and clawed more fiercely, but Darunia didn't notice. He looked up, took aim, and let the demon fly.

8

He had seen Impa dispose of the first demon, and had seen her fall to Ganondorf, beaten and bloody. He had seen her writhe under the tentacled beings, defeated and then…she rose. She moved without apparent heed to her numerous wounds, and she moved to help him. He was pinned under a spider-like beast, one sharp leg piercing each of his limbs as it repeatedly dripped acid onto his stomach. The pain was immense, but now Impa was coming! She would save them all, and Kakariko would once again celebrate their protector.

The hope she inspired gave him the will to fight, even if it was through unbelievable pain. Sliding his arms up the very legs that impaled them, he grasped the joints and heaved, sending the beast tumbling on its head and releasing his legs. "Now, Impa!" he yelled, hoping to the Goddesses that she heard him and took the opening. She appeared above him, an odd grin on her face. "Impa, quick! While the beast is stuaaAAAAAHHHHHH!"

His mind shut down as she stepped, hard, on the area where the acid had already eaten away his flesh. But even through the pain, he felt confused. Why? Why had Impa don—

He never got to finish the thought.

With a deft hand, she had plucked his left eye out with her fingers, and pinned it with a shuriken by the nerve to the bulls eye decorating the sign of his own shop.

His screams rose and then faded, as the spider demon got up and poured its acid again, this time into the newly made hole.

She moved from villager to villager, robbing them of both hope and life, be it by blade or bare handed. Nobody fled from her, for surely their eyes were mistaken. Impa would never betray them, would never hurt them. It was a belief that they would take to the grave, and that they did.

It was when she made her way to the building that had insofar passed beneath the demons interest—the House of Skulltula—when a fiery demon came flying out of the darkness to slam bodily into one of the tentacled beings behind the Sheikah. Both monsters followed the continued momentum straight into a hole in the house slightly above.

The other tentacled being barely had time to turn before Darunia was on it. So angered was the Sage at what he had witnessed that he pressed it against the wall and punched, his fist going through both its tentacled face and the wall.

Impa shook her head blearily, trying to grasp the situation. The mind-control had been complete, and directly induced by whatever those beings were.

But now one was killed, and the other…

Without a moments thought, she leapt into the building where it had landed. The fiery demon was dead, that much was evident by the angle of its head, resting under its body. But the mind-controller was already up and levitating, its eyes focused on Impa yet again.

She lunged, hoping for one plunge of her blade deep into its soft forehead, ending one part of this nightmare.

But no, she didn't lunge; it already had her mind in its cruel grip again. She tried to fight it, tried to overcome, but…no.

_I fear your friend has prematurely ended our…fun, Impa_, it said. _And it's too dangerous to keep such a strong minded individual as yourself with just me. But,_ it continued, turning to the other occupants of the room, _I believe we can leave one of your pathetic people with a farewell gift before we must say goodbye_. _So stand up, Impa_, its 'voice' now strangely ringing of Ganondorf's. _Stand up and admit tomorrow's never coming._

_8 _

"Here, children!"

The two terrified girls Darunia had rescued ran crying into the open arms of the party of gorons that had formed to follow their Big Brothers hasty departure.

"Shhh, children, you are safe now," said the goron that had been in the lead, hugging both girls tightly, trying to subdue their cries of "Demons!"

"Demons!" the gorons wailed, each one hugging themselves against the instant fear that had gripped them all.

All but one.

"Stop cowering and let us _do_ something for once!" shouted the goron that held the girls. The others stopped their shaking at the voice of command.

"But Link, what can we do?" one asked quaveringly.

"You shall take these children to the mountain, and warn our people," said Link—named for the Hero of Time—ushering the children into another gorons arms. "The rest of us will go and evacuate as many people as we can! So speaks Link, son of Darunia!"

8

Tugging the remains of the mind-controller off his fist, Darunia readied himself to leap after Impa. An evil chuckle behind him changed that.

"GANONDORF!" Darunia roared, his eyes ablaze.

"I am glad too see you remember me!" said the Gerudo Prince, giving the Sage a mocking bow. "I would have been so disappointed had you forgotten the time that never happened. But of course you wouldn't; you are a Sage after all. And yet, that is exactly the reason why I must kill you." He smiled that smile again, radiating superiority and pity.

Darunia rushed forward and swung, but the Gerudo sidestepped and elbowed him in the back of the head, his strength magically enhanced. The blow sent the goron sprawling.

Ganondorf chuckled again, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Stand, Darunia of the Gorons, Sage of Fire! Stand up and admit tomorrow's never coming!"

Darunia rose and spat out some dirt. "Standing's easy," the goron said, his eyes burning like the fires of Hell. "I couldn't dream of kneeling to you." As he spoke, the tattoo on his arm began to glow, and then to steam.

"Wonderful! Going out with a fight." Ganondorf set his legs apart, right fist pulled back for a punch, left arm extended out. "That being said, I must know one thing: would you damage my face, or leave it intact to keep as a trophy of your supposed victory?"

"Hah!" scoffed Darunia, bringing his right arm up, fingers taught as if clenching an invisible ball. He clenched his fist suddenly, and fire—as fierce and hot as the fires of creation—ignited out of the air and wreathed his arm, his fist white at the center. "I'd hit it," he said, the flames roaring and twisting, "like the fist of an angry god." He took two great steps forward and punched, with the entirety of the Realm of Fire at his call.

8

Her arms were raw where the demon gripped her, as was almost everything else. Her breasts and neck were bruised and bleeding from multiple bites, and below her waist…she didn't want to look. She could feel its seed, greasy and congealed, drip down her thighs, forced out by the continued thrusts and deposits. She cried out for somebody to kill her, and was only answered by the demons slavering insistence that "that would ruin the fun, Pretty Lady!"

But then more monsters entered the room through the same hole, followed by—IMPA! One of the demons got up again, and Impa fell, writhing on the floor, shrieking and cursing, before going still; but she was not dead. Impa rose slowly, her body now limbed in purple flames—purple, the color of the Sage of Shadow and her power—and turned to her, looked at her.

Hope, that most impressive and inspiring emotion, flooded the poor woman as the demon continued ravaging her.

But Impa did not kill the demon, did not stop it, did not even look at it. The guardian of Kakariko gazed deep into her eyes and whispered, "Goodbye," before pulling her hair back and forcing her mouth upon the other woman's. She felt Impa's tongue invade her mouth, pushing back so far as to make her gag.

Hope, that most precious and enduring of treasures, left her, taking her sanity with it.

8

Ganondorf met Darunia's punch with one of his own, the warlock's arm wreathed in darkness rather than fire. The punches met, but the fists did not. The raw, conflicting energies of fire and darkness collided and would have been flung apart but for the power of both combatants. Fire and Darkness danced, neither relenting, neither forgiving.

8

_Dead. Dead, all dead. NO! Not me, not this part. Not the power. The power lives, but not without a body. I must find a body, a replacement. Soon! I fade…but not yet._

_8 _

Darunia roared in defiance of the gerudo's power, roared in rage and anger bordering on hate. He called on more fire, more heat, more ferocity!

8

_Zelda, where are you!? No more Sheikah, no more guardians…where do I go!? There! An opening! To home, to the Shadow…find the strongest I can…find…must find must find…_

_8 _

Ganondorf grinned, he _grinned_ at Darunia's effort.

The Triforce of Power glowed.

8

Author's Note: So who hates me now? C'mon, be honest. I totally expect flames from this chapter, and, frankly, I deserve them. Just take some solace in the fact that I had no fun writing those...yeah. You know.

On a better note, I finally got around to writing more fight scenes so boosh to that! And remember how last chapter was my longest to date? Beat my record again by a page. And a big ole' thanks to REKKER on this one, who daily forced my fingers to keyboard. Good man.

Song used this time was Marilyn Manson's "This is the New Shit." Good song, check it out. Babble babble bitch bitch rebel rebel party party sex sex sex and don't forget the violence blah blah blah got your lovey dovey sad and lonely stick your stupid slogan in everybody sing along


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